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finelinefae · 3 months

Text

rose [tattooH x innocenty/n]

synopsis: Harry's a tattoo artist who can't figure out the best way to say how in love he is with the flower shop owner next door

word count: 10.5k

content warnings: smut (first time oral f recieving, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N), brief mentions of violence

read part 1 here

this is a lot !! like a lot happens !! also everyone smiles a lot,, i can't help it they're happy

. . .

Harry had come to the conclusion that of all the things he had had to do in his twenty-six years of life - all the things he had to do and say to get where he was today - saying I love you to his girlfriend was proving to be one of the most intricate tasks he had encountered.

And it wasn't because he didn't love her. From the moment she stepped into his tattoo shop with determination and fear all intertwined into one expression right up until now, he was pretty sure his relationship with Y/N was the physical embodiment of what it meant to be loved and to love in return.

He had learnt so much about the sweet, pretty girl next door. From her little habits and small quirks that she didn't think he ever noticed.

Y/N loved wearing Harry's clothes. He had bought a new band tee from an online shop one of his friends had recommended to him. When the parcel hadn't arrived on time, he wondered if it had gotten lost in transit or they'd delivered it to the wrong address. He had emailed them once or twice to see its whereabouts only to find the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on the body of his girlfriend asleep on his sofa when he came home from work. "But Harry, they're so soft and comfy!" She argued when he accused her the next morning. "Know that baby but I need clothes to wear." He was trying not to smile and pinch her cheeks when he caught a glimpse of her pouty lips. "But Harry-" He couldn't help but interrupt her with a quick kiss to her lips, "Can use some of my old shirts flower, y' can pick them out. C'mon sweet girl," He led her to his wardrobe and let her scramble through the box of his old shirts.

She loved being praised. Harry thought it was the cutest thing ever when he'd compliment her or tell her how good she was for him and her cheeks would turn a dusky pink colour. He'd often find himself kissing the crescent moon-shaped dimples on her cheeks whenever she'd beam up at him after he mumbled sweet praises into her ear, "M' good girl," He'd say, "Best girl, m' favourite flower."

She loved physical touch from him and him only. His favourite time of day was coming home after a busy day of working and finding his darling girl sitting up in bed, either reading or watching TV, waiting for him in his favourite soft, satin pyjamas she wears (he loved the feel of them under his hands whenever he held her). She'd make grabby hands for him as soon as she saw him walk through the door of her bedroom, wanting to touch him almost immediately. He'd kiss her a few times, run his fingers through her hair, stroke her cheek and brush his fingers over her arm. Even when they were walking through the streets of the town, Y/N would often cling to Harry - feeling anxious being around too many people. He'd comfort her with soothing touches, rubbing circles on the pulse point on her wrist to make sure she was okay.

There were so many things Harry had come to adore about his favourite girl in the entire world. From the way she'd look at him with big rounded eyes as though he hung up the moon and stars in the sky or knew the answer to everything she asked, to the way she'd melt under his touch whenever they'd do something even slightly intimate. He was so in love... He just didn't know how to tell her that.

Harry had never been in a serious relationship before so the idea of love didn't come easy to him. He had spent the majority of his life believing he was destined to be lonely, finding himself in one-night stands and never getting past the first date for lack of connection. He didn't know what romantic love looked like, felt like or even if it existed at all until he met his favourite flower.

Moments would crop up where he could feel the first syllable spike the tip of his tongue but invisible hands wrapped themself around his neck as he tried to let the words out. Y/N would sit patiently, waiting for him to continue speaking, but he'd just end up kissing her, hoping he could communicate his words without saying them.

He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when it came to saying those three simple words, words that carried so much weight between them. Maybe it was because he wanted the moment to be special and memorable for her, so he waited for the perfect opportunity to confess. But the anticipation was driving him a bit crazy.

It was very early Wednesday morning. Y/N was cutting up sheets of tissue paper since it was nearing winter and people would be out buying gifts soon for their loved ones. She had ordered a bunch of new seed packets and planned to make little gift sets to sell.

Harry was sitting at the workshop table in the middle of the shop. He was wearing his shorts and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. He wore his worn-out, white Vans as if they were slippers, with the left shoe dangling precariously from his toes, threatening to slide off at any moment. His tired eyes tried to remain focused on counting the coins for Y/N's till since she always miscalculated and would have to go visit him for more money even though his shop was cashless which he reminded her every time as he slipped her a five-pound note from his own back pocket.

The shop was silent in the early hours of the morning as the two worked separately. Y/N enjoyed that she didn't constantly have to make conversation with her boyfriend for him to be interested. They were happy to just be in each other's company for as long as possible.

"Baby," Harry's raspy voice broke the comfortable silence between them. Y/N's head lifted naturally in response, "C'mere." He opened his arm out but his eyes were still trained on counting the coins.

Y/N smiled tiredly and walked over to him, tucking herself into his side and holding onto the arm that wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, "Didn't get to hold y' this morning, left me cold." He murmured against her.

"M sorry, H. It's always stressful when the season changes." She sighed, thinking about all the work she still had yet to do before autumn passed.

"S okay, just missed you is all." He hummed. Y/N turned herself so she was pressed against the worktop and looking up at him. She loved every version of Harry at all times of day but something about Harry in the morning made her swoon. He was so soft and cuddly, needy and grabby, she'd always have to pry his hands off of her in the morning so she could get to work on time.

Y/N grinned and leaned her head forward, past the hood of his sweatshirt, to kiss him. "Wanted to ask you if y’ would come on a date with me this Saturday.” He whispered, eyes still closed from kissing her.

Every eight weeks, Y/N’s shop would close for the entire weekend. Since her shop was open most days, she wanted to give herself at least some time off to look forward to. Harry knew that particular weekend was coming up because of how much she was looking forward to it so he made sure to free up his weekend too so he could take her out for the day.

They had been on dinner dates and done a few other things here and there but there was only so much they could do in their small town. So as soon as he thought of the idea, he booked train tickets to take Y/N to the coast for the day.

“Hmmm,” Y/N sighed, reaching into his hood to wrap her arms around his neck, his skin warm against her touch. “Where would we go?”

“S a surprise,” He whispered into her ear, his breath warm.

“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” She replied, voice soft.

“Yeah? It’ll be cold so you’ll need to wear a sweater.” He told her.

"I only own sweaters," She rolled her eyes, pushing away from him so she could get back to work.

"Yeah, my sweaters." Harry teased.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, "Get back to counting those coins or you'll be fired."

"Yes ma'am," He couldn't stop smiling to himself as he carried on counting each penny.

. . .

The small train was busy on the way to the coast on Saturday morning but luckily they had managed to grab two seats next to each other by the window. Y/N insisted that they listened to one of the very many playlists she had curated for them both to listen to. It wasn’t long into their relationship that Harry had come to realise that music was one of Y/N’s love languages.

He remembered when he first moved in and heard her music through the walls of her apartment as he bought his food shopping up the stairs his first night. The music played well into the night and he had planned to knock on her door and ask her to turn it down like she had done to him the day they had first met, but his ears caught onto her singing. He pressed his ear up against the door and listened as she sang to herself whilst dishes clinked together. She wasn’t the best singer he had ever heard but something about her soft voice soothed him, so he turned around and went about his night with the girl singing next door.

Y/N pulled out her wired earbuds not long after they’d sat down and gave one of them to Harry. After Hours by The Velvet Underground started playing and Harry smiled to himself as he watched Y/N gaze out the window of the train. He reached for her hand which was covered by her fingerless gloves she had crocheted herself and intertwined their fingers together.

The train pulled into the final station an hour later. Harry held tightly onto Y/N as people bustled to get on and off the train at the same time. The weather wasn’t perfect when they had arrived - slightly overcast and grey - but it didn’t stop Y/N from gasping at the sight of the ocean in front of her.

“Harry look!” She pointed as the waves rolled into the shore. She looked adorable in her white hat and earmuffs, her white puffer coat made her look like a giant marshmallow. She was almost matching Harry, in his black puffer coat and green bobble hat.

“Y/N! Slow down baby,” He called for her as he ran to catch up with her.

They walked down the steps and onto the beach which was practically void of any people other than a few dog walkers. He was thankful he had told her to wear a thick coat since the wind was bitter and cold. Harry’s smile was so wide, that his dimples pierced each one of his cheeks as he watched her run around in her UGG boots and leggings.

“Beautiful,” Harry whispered, hoping the words would get caught in the wind and blow straight to her so she could hear them.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea,” She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh sea air. Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

They walked side by side with each other. Harry held Y/N’s hand inside the pocket of his coat and every once in a while, she would stop to pick up a shell which she would pass to him to put in his other coat pocket. At some point, it started to drizzle down with rain but they carried on walking and talking along the beach.

Harry would watch as Y/N ran up to the sea to pick up bits of sea glass and try to not get caught by the water. She looked adorable as she ran up the beach looking back at him with her woolly hat and giant coat swamping her. Strands of hair stuck to her damp, rosy cheeks as rain dripped from her coat since they had been out so long. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her as she crouched down to look at something she’d found in the sand. He made a mental note to share it on everything he possibly could so everyone in his life would know how much he loved her, even if she didn’t know just yet.

Harry swore he was going to tell her he was in love with her right there and then but his heart fell out of his chest when he watched her trip and stumble back onto the sand. “Y/N,” He rushed over, immediately wanting to check if she was okay, only to be met with her giggling and laying back on the sand like a starfish on land.

“Lay here with me,” She patted the spot next to her.

The last thing Harry wanted to do was get his new black trousers wet and dirty from the sand but he would do anything and everything she asked him to do so he fell onto the sand and laid right next to her.

His pinky finger hooked with hers as they both looked up at the sky, “Are you happy flower?” He asked.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” She confesses and the words make Harry’s heart grow ten times the size. “I think spending time with you is when I’m the happiest Harry.”

When it reached past midday, Harry took Y/N to grab something to eat before they had to take the train home again. Their coats were dripping when they stepped inside the small cafe Harry had picked out for them. The kind owner had even offered to dry them both for them before they had to leave again.

“Harry,” She gasped, “They do blueberry pancakes!”

Harry smirked, not wanting to tell her that he had picked this cafe specifically because they made one of Y/N’s favourite foods, “Really? Tha’s your favourite right baby?”

She nods, “I’m gonna get that- ooo it even comes with the option of honey or syrup!” Y/N beams.

By the time their food had arrived, they were well invested in conversation, “Was thinking of getting my ear pierced next weekend. One of my mates has free space and thought it would be fun to get a hoop or something.” Harry tells her.

Y/N paused on chewing her pancake as she pictured her boyfriend with a hoop earring. She swallowed down her food before getting out, “That would be hot.”

Harry laughs at her bluntness, “Yeah?” He smirked, “You think so?” Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinged pink.

Although they kissed and made out at any spare moment they could, they hadn’t really branched out from the time Harry had touched her for the first time. Y/N knew Harry was trying to be patient about it - he was a gentleman like that - but she was going crazy not having his ring-clad hands touching her skin, providing that ecstasy he had given her a glimpse of for the first time.

“Y alright there flower?” Harry crooned, “Anything on your mind you’d care to share.”

Y/N shook her head, ridding them of her dirty thoughts, “M okay, H.”

“Alright,” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, “You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Her eyes softened, “And thank you for bringing me here today, I’ve loved being here with you.”

Harry parted his lips as if to respond, but found himself speechless, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. Y/N looked at him expectantly, her eyes silently urging him to express whatever was on his mind. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he finally spoke, "I've loved being here with you too. I love every moment I get to be with you." Y/N beamed as Harry inwardly cursed himself for being unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he saw the radiant smile spread across Y/N's face, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and contentment wash over him, knowing that his words were enough to reach her for now.

After the train journey home, which took slightly longer than anticipated, Harry carried Y/N up to her apartment and into her bedroom where he slumped her down on her bed. Y/N hummed at the feeling of her warm, cosy sheets beneath her. “Comfy m’love?” He grinned, tugging the sleeves of his coat off so he was just in his white t-shirt and black trousers.

“I’m so sleepy,” Y/N sighed, eyes closed whilst Harry tugged her shoes off as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed.

“Cause you’ve been running around all day huh? Could barely keep up with you half the time.” Harry briefly massages the souls of her feet after taking both her shoes off, knowing they were probably aching from running on the beach all day.

“But it was sooo much fun,” Y/N whined, her tired eyes peering down at Harry.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that lovie. Need to get y’ out of these clothes so I can put them in the wash.” He tugs on her leggings.

“Can you do it?” Y/N asks, “M too tired.”

Harry pauses, “Y’ sure baby? Don’t want y’ to be uncomfortable.”

“M sure Harry, I trust you.” She tells him.

He smiles to himself as her words settle in the space between them. A smile curves his lips almost involuntarily, reflecting the quiet gratitude he feels towards her trust. “Alright, lift y’ hips for me, flower.” He instructs and Y/N does as she’s told, lifting her hips so he can pull down her leggings leaving her in her pink lacey panties.

Harry swallows as he sees the apex of her thighs. He hadn’t seen this much of her before and he could already feel himself harden in his jeans at the sight of her. “Think y’ can sit up for me flower? Jus’ so I can’t take your sweater off?” He tries to stop staring at her bare legs but he can’t seem to take his eyes away.

Y/N groans but does as she’s told, sitting up and putting her arms up so Harry can remove the sweater from her torso. Her eyes are still shut and Harry gently pulls the soft sweater over her head.

When her eyes open, the first thing Y/N sees is Harry standing above her with his gaze fixed on her figure and she realizes this is the most he's ever seen of her yet. She had nothing but a vest and underwear to cover her body. Y/N was pretty sure he could see the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples through the thin, white material.

“Harry…” she whispers, suddenly realising what was happening, how the temperature in the room had suddenly shifted.

Y/N shivered as Harry cupped her cheek and bent forward to kiss her. She leaned backwards onto the bed, resting on her elbows as Harry kept his hold on her cheek, using his other hand to place on her hip as he crawled on top of her. His hand was warm and big and his fingertips pressed into her skin sending a joint of electricity down through her body.

They kissed and Harry groaned as Y/N uncontrollably rolled her hips into him, “Harry,” Y/N repeated, placing her hands on his chest.

“What baby?” He asks.

“I-I feel strange,” She confesses, not really knowing how to go about telling him what was on her mind.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N shook her head immediately, “N-no nothing’s wrong. It’s just… Remember last time? When you…” she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, too embarrassed to describe what Harry had done when he taught her how to touch herself.

“What about it?” He wonders, patience and curiosity on his face.

“I-I want to do it again but different.” She cringed at her words, “I mean, I want to try something new. L-like I want you to show me something new I mean.”

Harry’s features softened, “Yeah? You want me to take care of you huh?”

Y/N nodded, relieved he understood what she was hinting at without her having to admit it herself, “Yes.”

“What do you want me to do baby?” He kisses down the side of her neck, Y/N’s head rolling to the side to give him more room to explore her skin.

“I-I don’t know,”

“Oh I think you do flower otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for something new to try would you?” He sucks on the skin of her neck and she whines at the feeling. His green eyes meet hers as he lifts his head up, “C’mon sweet girl, tell daddy what you want from him.”

Her mouth fell open and her heart beat erratically in her chest, “I-I need you down there daddy.”

“Yeah? You want daddy to touch you down there baby?”

“Y-yes daddy please.”

“Still so polite.” Y/N seemed to melt as he crawled down her placid form, he could do anything to her and she wouldn't mind as long as he was touching her in some way.

She suddenly gasped when she felt him blow warm air onto her nipple beneath her vest. “Can I lift your vest baby? Can you let daddy see these cute tits?”

“Mhm,” She hummed, her body vibrating with excitement and nerves. Harry’s fingertips brushed the skin of her tummy as he pulled her vest up to reveal her breasts.

“Fuck baby,” Harry groaned. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Your shirt too!” Y/N insisted, feeling a little insecure as Harry was still in his white shirt.

Harry was quick to pull off his shirt to reveal his tattooed torso that Y/N had traced and slept on almost every night since they had met. Her hands were immediately on his warm skin as he kissed down the swell of her breasts. Y/N gasped as Harry gently pressed a kiss to her left nipple, sliding his other hand up to cup her other one, “See that? Y’ were made for daddy.” He said as her breast fit perfectly in his hand.

“Daddy I need you,” Y/N whispered.

“Such a greedy girl.” He tuts, “Trying to worship you ‘n you’re just begging me to make you cum.”

“N-no-” Y/N wanted to argue but Harry quickly kissed her lips before moving down her body.

“Look at these pretty panties. Can already see you’re all soaked through them.” Y/N could practically hear the smile on his face. “Can I see baby?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” She swallowed back her nerves, even though Harry had already seen her down there, it was her first time experiencing someone be so up close. Y/N felt his fingers hook around the waistband of her panties until they were halfway down her thighs and waited for him to react.

“Fuck me,” Harry hisses. “Won’t ever get over the sight of this pretty pussy. Always manage to live up to y’ nickname, don’t y’ flower?”

Y/N’s cheeks heat but before she has time to protest Harry leans forward and presses a kiss to her throbbing pussy. She snaps her thighs shut tightly and gasps, “W-what-“

“Shhh flower,” Harry kisses her knee and then gently hooks both her legs over either of his shoulders so she can’t close her thighs to hide away from him, “Daddy’s gonna take the ache away okay? Know you’ve been feeling all needy for daddy. Gonna do something that’ll help and put you right to sleep m’kay?”

Y/N swallows harshly and fists the fabric of the blanket beneath her. Her heart was racing and her belly was swirling with need and desire as she waited for Harry to do something.

He kissed the inside of her thighs, “You trust me?” He asked, waiting for her approval, “Because I’ll stop as soon as you say so, promise y’ that.”

“Yes, daddy.” She said because she did trust him, wholeheartedly, “I trust you.”

“That’s m’ girl.” Y/N waited until she felt his warm breath blow over her pussy. His mouth pressed another kiss to her before she felt his tongue swipe across her slit. Y/N gasped at the unfamiliarity of it as he flicked his tongue softly over her to get her accustomed to it. His eyes looked up to see Y/N’s reaction at the first touch of his mouth. He smirked to himself as her breasts heaved cutely and her cheeks were flushed pink.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“S not my name flower.” He murmured against her.

She tried to close her thighs but Harry’s head lay buried between them, licking and stroking his tongue against her. He wrapped both his tattooed hands around her thighs to keep them open, pressing his fingertips into her plushy skin. “Daddy,” she whined.

He licks up her wet cunt once more until he finds her clit. Y/N jolts at the sudden attention to her sensitive bundle of nerves. His lips pucker against her tiny, pink clit glistening with arousal, a whimper eliciting from Y/N’s lip. He moves his tongue in circles around it before gently sucking on the small bud.

Y/N’s a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him as he licks and sucks on her clit, her wetness coating his chin. She bucks her hips against his mouth and quickly removes one hand from the bed to weave into his hair. Harry groans as she tugs on his curls, his cock leaking precum in his trousers, the vibrations going straight to Y/N’s clit.

“Daddy, f-feels so good,” She mewls, continuing to tug on his hair. Harry ruts his hips against the mattress, in hopes he could get some relief as he continues his assault on her pussy.

“Y' so fucking sexy Y/N.” He grumbled, unable to stop his attention from her weeping, little cunt.

Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the coil tighten in her belly. Harry’s hand removed itself from her thigh and slid up the bed to reach for her hand that wasn’t already in his hair. He intertwined their fingers as if comforting her without saying anything.

He paused his assault on her clit, Y/N whimpering at the sudden loss. Instead, he flattened his tongue against her once more before dipping his tongue into her hole a little as if testing the waters to see whether she’d like it. Y/N’s back arched and Harry’s hand left hers to place itself flat against her tummy to hold her still, the cool metal of his rings made her shiver as they touched her skin. His tongue delved in and out of her, using his other hand to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

Y/N’s mouth fell open, her head fell back and her legs turned to jelly. “Y close angel girl?” Harry murmured, peeking up at her to see her blissfully zoned out from his touch.

“Feels s’ good daddy, s-so so so good,” She babbled her head lolling from side to side.

“Wanna cum baby? Wanna make a mess on daddy?” He urged her, feeling her core clench.

She jerkily nodded, “Mhmmm,” She hummed.

“Lemme have it, baby, daddy worked so hard, lemme taste y’ cum.” He hastened his movements on her clit and continued to lick and suck at her pussy, “Cum f’ me baby.” He coaxed. "Can't wait to feel y' round my cock someday, practically begging to feel y' tight, little hole. 'm gonna be the first and only one to fill y' up, isn't that right? Gonna let daddy stretch you out and fill y' up. You're all mine, 'm favourite flower."

His filthy words set Y/N alight. She felt the coil snap as pleasure rushed through her entire body and filled all of her senses. Harry groaned, continuing to press himself up against the bed until he felt his own orgasm building too, his lips staying on Y/N as she came. He lapped up her juices, riding her through her orgasm and tasting all she had to offer for the first time. “That’s my girl baby, so good.” He cooed.

Harry’s eyes rolled back as his cock released inside of his boxers, his head falling to the side and resting on the inside of her thigh as he breathed heavily, “Fuck,” He groaned, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

The room was quiet other than the sounds of them trying to catch their breath. Harry kissed the inside of Y/N’s thigh and worked his way up her body, placing soft, spongy kisses on her bare skin until he was face-to-face with her.

Harry grinned lazily, his eyes tired as he brushed the hair off her face. His heart stuttered; he felt himself losing his breath all over again despite having just come down from the high of his release as he looked down at his girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glowing from the afterglow, tendrils of baby hairs framed her face and her eyes were hazy and soft as she looked into his own.

“Thank you daddy,” She whispered to him.

Harry pressed a kiss to her lips. Her legs hooked around his waist as he circled his arms around her to pull her in tighter, “You okay? Was that good? Not too much?” He wanted to make sure she was okay before anything else. He’d hate himself if he did something she didn’t like or didn’t want to do.

“M okay,” She smiled, her voice tired. He kissed her once more knowing she could probably taste herself on his lips. “It felt good.”

“Y’ made me cum,” He admits, feeling the discomfort of his own release in his boxers.

“I did?” Y/N’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise.

“Yeah, flower. That was so fucking sexy.” Y/N whined and tried to hide herself behind her hands. Harry chuckled at her reaction, grabbing her wrists to move her hand away and kissing her forehead before lifting himself from her. “Let’s get y’cleaned up.”

Harry walked over to Y/N’s dresser to grab himself some clean boxers from the drawer he had curated from the nights he had spent with her. He also grabbed her some clean underwear and one of his shirts to wear to bed.

In the bathroom, he got himself cleaned up and grabbed a cloth dampening it under the running water in the sink for his love who was waiting for him in bed. Harry paused at the door when he entered her room after he was met with a sight he longed to treasure in his mind forever. Y/N was lying completely bare on her bed. Her eyes were shut, her chest moving up and down and her hair was sprawled out around her. He didn’t know how he got so lucky with her, she was a living angel.

“C’mere flower,” He murmured, spreading her legs apart slightly and trying not to react to the sticky, glistening mess between her thighs. He placed the dampened cloth against her and calmed her down as she jolted beneath his touch from how sensitive she was.

Once they were all cleaned up, Harry climbed under the blankets with Y/N half asleep against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ran a finger up and down the length of her spine beneath her shirt. "Sleep now, flower," he whispered his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. The warmth of his presence soothed Y/N to fall asleep.

In the hazy blur of her consciousness, she murmured, words slipping from her lips without thought. "Love you," she breathed, the three words escaping her lips as effortlessly as a sigh, yet she remained unaware of what they meant.

Harry stilled, his breath catching in his throat, “W-what?” But Y/N didn’t reply, instead, soft snores left her lips as she fell asleep beside him.

. . .

It was the Friday after Harry had taken Y/N to the beach. Fridays were always busy at the tattoo shop so Harry was working away until the late hours of the evening. Y/N sat on a chair, her legs swinging backwards and forward as she played a game on Harry's phone. The sound of the tattoo gun hummed in the air whilst a bossa nova played over the Bluetooth speaker. Harry was still working despite the fact it was nearly time for Y/N to go to bed (She had a strict regime before bed which gave her exactly eight hours of sleep each night). He had promised her this would be his last customer as she waltzed into his tattoo shop, ready to go to his apartment together.

Harry hadn't mentioned to Y/N what she had unknowingly said in her sleep. When they woke up the next morning, he gently broached the subject, asking, "Hey, do you remember anything you said last night while you were asleep?"

Y/N, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, just shrugged in response. "Not really," she mumbled, her voice heavy with drowsiness. "Did I say something strange?"

"No, not at all," Harry assured her, though inwardly, he couldn't shake off the weight of her words. "Just thought you might've had a dream or something." But even as he spoke, he couldn't shake off the lingering memory of her whispered confession, playing over and over in his mind like a sweet melody.

"Y' holding up okay there m'love?" Harry checked in, working on the final few finishing touches of the tattoo he had been working on.

"Mhm," She smiled but Harry could tell she was getting sleepy from the way he'd caught her eyes fluttering shut when he glanced over at her.

"Can go sleep on the couch out front if you're feeling sleepy." He offered, wanting to make sure his girl was okay before he finished off the tattoo for his customer. He knew first-hand how grouchy she got when she didn't get her sleep.

"M okay here Harry," She insisted, thinking she was lying to him well enough over how tired she was. "Can I watch?" She strained her neck to get a better look at what Harry was doing.

"Course flower, c'mere," Harry pushed his chair forward to give Y/N space to stand behind him so she could watch over his shoulder. He pushed down on the peddle and continued the tattoo as Y/N watched over him.

"Does it hurt?" She wondered, watching the needle press ink into the customer's skin.

"Jus' a little sting but when you've had so many it's not so bad," Harry replied.

Y/N watched in fascination. She was not only impressed by the design Harry had drawn out and tattooed to the customer so effortlessly but also how brave people must be to have such a permanent mark on their skin. She tilted her head to the side, "I want one," She mumbled.

Harry paused, "What?"

"Nothing," She replied, quickly.

Harry had heard what she said but decided he'd bring it up when there wasn't another person in the room, knowing how shy she got around people she didn't know.

After completing the tattoo, he wrapped it up and chatted with the customer for a little bit. Meanwhile, Y/N browsed through his tattoo design sketchbook with a furrowed brow. Once the conversation was done, he shut the door behind the customer and turned the sign to 'closed.'

He walked over to his seemingly overthinking flower and kissed the top of her head, "Wha's wrong m'love?" He smiled softly, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into his chest.

"Jus' looking H," She tilted her head back to look up at him, kissing his chin in the process.

"Didn't know we were telling fibs tonight flower," He teased, spinning her around in his embrace.

"M not lying," She hid her face in his chest because he always knew when she was lying and she was most definitely lying.

"Can you look up f'me baby just f' a sec," He murmured and looked down to see the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, round and sparkling under the blue lights of his shop. "Woah," He whispered to himself.

"What's wrong?" A crease appeared in between her brows.

"Nothin' just...you're so pretty," She whined, nuzzling her face into his neck to hide her very red face. Even though it was hard to tell under the blue lights, he knew she was blushing. "Hey, no, can I have a kiss please?" He cupped the back of her head and pulled her away from the comfortable spot in his neck.

Y/N stood on her toes to kiss him, tasting the tinge of eucalyptus lip balm she had given him when he had complained of having sore lips from kissing her too much in the colder weather. "So y' want a tattoo?" He murmured against her lips.

Y/N pulled away, "I-I was just thinking but-"

"You're not sure?" She nods. "Don't have to get a tattoo today m'love, especially if you're not sure." Harry comforted her, seeing the uncertainty on her face. He kissed the crease between her eyebrows but her eyes were fixed on a tattoo on his upper arm.

"Where'd you get that?" She asked, her fingers skimming over the small design. It was a fine line drawing of a pair of angel wings with a flower in the centre between each wing. Harry had designed it not long after meeting Y/N and had only tattooed the design onto himself a few days ago.

"Jus' a little something I drew 's all." He shrugged, "Reminded me of you."

Y/N's lips parted like she couldn't believe what he had just said, "For me?"

He nods, "Wanted to have you somewhere on me at all times."

Y/N goes quiet and Harry gives her the time to think as he packs away his things to head upstairs. By the time he's finished, Y/N's tugging on his sleeve and looking up at him with rounded eyes, "I think I'd like a tattoo, Harry."

Harry bit back a smile, "You do?"

"Mhm," She nodded, seeming sure of herself, "But I want you to do it."

"Wouldn't let anyone else do it anyways flower." He pulled out the kit he had just put away, not feeling annoyed in the slightest because he loved this girl and would set up his equipment all over again even if she decided she no longer wanted the tattoo anymore.

Y/N shimmied up onto the chair and glanced over at him, "What are you wanting on you baby?" He asked.

"I want the same one as you please Harry," She says, referring to the tattoo of the angel wings.

He smiles, "Wanna match with me, sweet girl?" He kisses her lips quickly.

Y/N nods, beaming up at him, "Yes please."

"So polite," He taps her cheek before going to his worktop and drawing out a stencil with a careful hand. Y/N sat in the chair with her feet hovering above the ground. She was fiddling with her fingers in her lap as she glanced around at the designs she had admired many times before when she'd sit and wait for Harry whilst he worked.

"M'kay lovie, where'd you want it?" Harry asked.

"Oh," She pursed her lips, "I didn't think that far."

"Didn't think that far?" Harry chortled, "How about on your arm?” He squeezed her arm softly above the crease of her elbow, "Won't hurt too bad if we do it here."

"Okay Harry," She nodded, trusting him implicitly. Harry wanted to smother her in kisses with the way she was looking at him like she would do anything he said without even questioning it.

Harry prepped everything, making sure he had all he needed to start the tattoo. He went a little slower than he normally would, wanting to give her enough time to make sure she was certain about getting the tattoo. He mixed up the ink and switched on the tattoo gun as Y/N lay back against the leather chair.

"Y' okay flower?" Harry checked again, expecting to get the same answer he had already gotten only for her to chew on her lip and scrunch up the fabric of the skirt she was wearing.

"M a little nervous," She admitted, blushing.

"Hey it's okay to be nervous," He cooed, dropping the equipment and rolling over to her on his chair. He leaned against the seat she was lying in so his face was up close to hers, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and the feeling of his hands calmed the nerves Y/N was feeling. "It'll hurt a little bit. Some people say it feels like a little like a tiny scratch but you get used to the feeling."

"But what if you start and then I don't want it anymore because it hurts?" She realises she should have asked these questions before they had gotten this far.

"Tha's why you need to be sure you want it sweet girl. Don't wanna see you in pain either but it's a small tattoo so won't take long and it's on your arm which means it hurts a little bit less." Harry explained.

"Okay," She nodded, "B-but can you distract me a little? It'll help if you distract me."

Harry smiled, kissing her lips, "Can distract you any way you want, baby. Here," He removed the dog tag necklace he wore all the time without failure and handed it to her, "Can fiddle with this while I draw on you."

Y/N felt her shoulders relax a little as she felt the cool metal in her hands, "Okay Harry." His lips pressed against her forehead, "Okay Y/N." He grinned.

Harry pulled on some gloves and got the tattoo gun running. Y/N went stiff as the humming sound filled the room but she reminded herself of Harry's words and continued to play with his necklace. "Okay, ready baby?" He gave her one last kiss for comfort and then, when she nodded her head, the needle made contact with her skin.

She gasped as the tiny needle pricked at her skin. It wasn't as painful as she thought it was going to be but it wasn't comfortable either. She tried to relax but her muscles were all tensed up.

Harry tried to comfort her as best as she could. Whispering words of encouragement, "So good baby, y' so brave." He'd say and tell her it would be over in a moment even though a moment felt like an eternity in her mind.

"Is it over yet?" She was starting to feel the discomfort and was already waiting for it to finish.

"Almost angel," He cooed and finished up the final lines of the drawing. "There we go, all finished."

Y/N let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding and immediately her eyes flickered down to the tattoo Harry had drawn on her. She was in awe of how beautiful and intricate the design was and how quickly Harry had managed to draw it so perfectly. It was a perfect size on her arm, the angel wings matched exactly the same as the ones Harry had done on himself. She almost squealed with how happy she was with her first ever tattoo and how it was a permanent reminder of her sweet and loving boyfriend.

Harry grinned as he watched her face light up when she saw the tattoo, "'Y like it?" He asked, preparing the cream and wrap to put on it before she did something that would get it infected - they both knew she would do that if he wasn't careful.

"I love it, Harry!" She grinned, her smile lighting up the whole room.

Harry laughed at her happiness, "You're welcome baby." He applied the cream and wrapped it up before she could move anywhere. Instead of leaping out of the chair, she wrapped her arms around Harry and pressed her lips to his. He hummed, "Best tip I've ever gotten." He murmured.

"I kinda want another one," She couldn't stop looking down at her tattoo and taking in how pretty it was.

"Woah, slow down there flower, think you should wait a while until the next one." He repressed a smile. "But I'll happily draw up another one f'you."

"Okay Harry," She said, not really paying much attention to him.

"Alright c'mon, le's go upstairs. Wanna kiss you in bed if tha's okay." He quickly put all of his equipment away as Y/N gawked at her tattoo.

"I think I'd love that more than the tattoo," She sighed. Harry decided not to pull her up on the fact she was probably telling another fib.

. . .

"Y/N is that a tattoo!" One of her friends, Shakira, spoke out.

It had been two weeks since Y/N had gotten her first tattoo and she still wasn't over how pretty it was. Every morning she'd wake up and look at her arm and tell Harry how good of a job he did.

"No wonder you're a tattoo artist Harry!" She'd say, to which he'd just smile and sit patiently as she rambled about how much she loved her tattoo and how she wanted him to draw her another one.

"Oh yes!" Y/N rolled up the sleeve of her pyjama shirt so her friends could get a better look, "Harry did it. Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, thinking of her boyfriend who she hadn't seen since this morning.

Y/N had planned a slumber party at her place a few weeks ago since she hadn't seen her two friends, Shakira and Layla, in forever. She'd known them since high school and were the only two friends she really had other than Harry who was also her best friend.

Harry had promised he'd stay away and give her some much needed girly time. Although Y/N didn't like the idea of being away from Harry, she knew it was needed. He had some things he needed to do anyway and she wanted to give him space to do that too.

"Do you think he could do one for me?" Layla asked, her arm already littered with small tattoos.

"I can ask him for you if you'd like," Y/N offered, receiving a nod from Layla.

"What's it like being in a relationship?" Shakira asked, "I mean Harry seems the complete opposite of you, I'd never have pictured you together."

Y/N smiles, thinking back to their first interaction and how intimidated she was by him. Now she couldn't get enough of him, wanting to be with him and touch him whenever she could. "I know but Harry's... I don't know, he's not like how people assume. He's kind, caring and lovable. We have a lot more in common than most people think and even the things we don't have in common, Harry always listens to the things I have to say even when he doesn't completely understand."

"Awwww!" Y/N blushed when she realised she had been rambling too much again.

"You're so cute Y/N," Layla grinned. "And we're so happy for you. Harry seems like a great guy."

"He is," Y/N agreed, shyly.

"Have you said I love you yet?" Shakira smirked.

Y/N's smile faltered, "N-not yet..." She looked away from their gazes, "But I think I'm just waiting for the right time. Harry always has these moments where I think he's going to say it but he never does and part of me thinks he's still questioning it." Y/N admits.

Layla offers her a sympathetic gaze, "I'm sure he's just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you Y/N. Saying I love you can be a pretty big deal for some people."

"I know," Y/N nods in agreement, "And I'll wait for him, however long it takes."

Y/N spent the remainder of the evening gossiping and watching movies with her two best friends. Now and then, she would look down at her phone just in case Harry had sent her anything but nothing appeared other than a blank screen. She couldn't help but feel a little bit deflated that he hadn't checked in on her like he usually would but she quickly pushed the feeling away. Harry had other things he was doing, she'd see him later.

"Thank you for having us Y/N! It was so good to see you, we need to do it again sometime," Y/N stood at the door to say goodbye to her friends. It was nearing midnight and she wondered if Harry was in his apartment waiting for her.

"Thank you for coming! I missed you guys," Y/N chirped, she really did miss having her girlfriends around. She was so busy with work and spending time with Harry, that she rarely had time outside of those things. But after today, she was going to make it a priority to see her friends again.

"See you later Y/N!" Her friends waved as they walked down the steps from her apartment. Y/N smiled and waved until they were out of sight. She planned on calling Harry to check in on him and see if he was alright but a crash from his apartment halted her steps.

She paused, stilling herself so she could hear a little better. Another thud came from his apartment followed by a string of curses and something that sounded like a clutter of things falling on the floor.

"Harry?" Y/N called through the door but received no response. "Harry, are you okay? It's me, it's Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry's voice murmured through the door. Y/N relaxed a little at the sound of his voice but she was still worried about him. It wasn't normal for him to keep his distance from her like this.

"Harry, are you okay?" She rested her hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it so she could see him with her own eyes.

"I-I'm fine baby. Go t' sleep m'love. I'll be there in a little while," Y/N frowned when she heard him wheezing a little as he breathed between words. He spoke much too slowly compared to his usual drawl as though it was too much work for him to speak.

"Harry please, jus' wanna see you." She tries again, hoping he'll open the door.

"Promise I'll be there t' give you your kisses baby but I jus' need... a moment," Y/N's face fell.

"H-Harry you're scaring me," She said, quietly.

Harry was on the other side of the door, clutching onto his side. He was already hurting but hearing his angel begging to come in was killing him. He couldn't leave her out there. She looked the perfect remedy to his currently aching body when he looked through the peephole of his door and saw her already in her pyjamas, looking all snuggly and cute.

"Not tryin' t' scare you, dove. Please I'll be out in a minute." He hoped she would listen like she normally would. He needed enough time to clean up as best as he could so he could return to her- looking like the Harry she knew- but she wasn't having it, reminding him of just how stubborn she could be when she wanted to.

"Harry, I-I'm gonna open the d-door. I have to see if you're okay," She spoke, clearly and carefully.

Harry looked down as the doorknob twisted. He wanted to twist the key and lock it to keep her out but he lost control of his own mind as he stepped back and allowed her to push the front door open.

He stood under the dim light of his living room. He had been meaning to get the lightbulb fixed but he'd been spending too much time at Y/N's apartment to remember.

Her eyes went from his feet all the way up to meet his face. Her lips parted and her eyes started to water, his heart ached at the sight. "No baby," He stepped forward, pulling her into him and holding her to his chest even though it ached to do so.

"H-Harry," She whispered, her voice cracking, "What happened?"

She pulled back and cupped one of his cheeks in her small hand. Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, he could have sworn every ounce of pain lifted from her touch alone. "Was out with a friend, you know, the one who deals," He explained, referring to Mike who Y/N had met. He didn't want to hide from her and she already knew he smoked weed regularly so it was no surprise to her when he told her he'd been smoking, "We pulled over so he could drop something off but I guess the customer got a little aggressive. He was probably on something but he was refusing to pay I think Mike said. I was in the car and all I saw was this guy trying to swing at him. I ran out to help him and we managed to get away before he had the chance to do anything worse but he obviously managed to get a good few hits in before."

Harry hadn’t remembered the last time he had gotten into a fight other than when he was a teenager just after his parents got divorced. He had managed to get a few punches in, making his knuckles all red and cut up, but he'd also been the victim of a few hits too. He had a black eye, a busted lip and a pounding headache from the impact of the punch he had received.

"Harry," Y/N choked on a sob, "Y-you could have been seriously h-hurt,"

"I know baby, I know." He cradled her head in his arms as she wrapped her arms around him, not squeezing too tight because she knew he was in pain. "But 'm here now."

Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him, "You were helping Mike?" She asked.

"'s all I was doing baby, promise." He hated how worried she looked so he was willing to do anything to comfort her until she knew he was okay.

She pulled away, "W-where are you hurting?" She looks down as if checking him for any more bruising. He could see her visibly starting to panic, her hands shaking and her chest moving up and down rapidly.

"Hey, c'mere, c'mon now." He picked her up and brought her over to the couch, "M okay sweet girl, nothing to worry about anymore. Calm down f' me, please. Hate seeing you in a panic." He uttered to her, rocking her back and forth with her face buried in his neck.

"You're all b-bruised," She whimpered, "Y-you must be in so much pain."

"Not anymore my love. Hmmm, my flower is here, takin' all m' pain away aren't you dove?" He kissed her shoulder.

"C-can I help you?" She whispered, eyes blotchy and red from crying a little.

"Wanna patch up m' bruises love?" She nods as if there was nothing else she'd rather do than be there for him. "Alright, le's go to the bathroom and y' can help me." He carried her to the bathroom and placed her on the counter near the sink. He grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink and handed it to her. "Didn't know m' girlfriend was a little nurse." He smirked, a blush covering her cheeks.

Harry stood between her legs with his hands on the counter on either side of her. He watched her as she cleaned the cuts and treated the bruise covering his eye. He smiled when the tip of her tongue stuck out between her lips, "Be careful, I'll bite that tongue." He teased.

Y/N squeaked hiding her tongue away, but quickly composed herself, "You're not getting anywhere near my tongue mister." She sasses and Harry grins so wide, his cheeks hurt.

"No? You don't think I deserve a kiss baby? M in so much pain." He hides his face in her neck and presses spongy kisses on her soft skin.

Y/N giggles at the ticklish sensation, trying to push him away, "No, you can't, not until I patch you up and you stop getting into fights."

"Actin' like I get into fights every other weekend baby," He smirks, "Only f' you."

Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to figure out what to say in such a flustered state from his words. He takes the opportunity to kiss her, their lips pressing together under the low light of the bathroom. He hadn't seen her since this morning and had been missing her all day but knew she needed some time with her girlfriends without him smothering her. It didn't stop him from glancing at his phone now and then to see if she'd called him, just like she had done.

The small time they spent away from each other during the day made him all the more desperate to kiss her. He cradled both her cheeks in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbones. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the baby strands of hair on the nape of his neck. "Missed you," She murmured when their lips parted.

"Missed y' too flower." He hummed, "Don't know what's wrong w' me to want you this bad." His hands travelled down her arms, his fingers brushing over her tattoo as he slid past it before he intertwined their fingers together. “Think m just a teeny bit in love with y’ to be honest.” He confessed.

And suddenly they were both existing outside of their own bodies.

"W-what?" Y/N's eyes glazed over.

“Oh shit.” Harry cusses, squeezing his eyes shut, his face scrunching in frustration, “Wasn’t meant to be this way flower.”

“Y-you love me?” Her bottom lip quivered, her brain not quite believing what she was hearing.

Harry's heart was racing as he looked her in the eyes, "I love you." The words left his mouth and had never felt so right or so freeing. He couldn't understand why now of all moments was the time to finally say it but a piece of himself felt whole and all the pain from his body had left as he told her the three words that had been trapped in his throat for so long.

Y/N's mind whirred as she processed Harry's words. The air seemed to thicken around them, and for a moment, time hung suspended. She searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all she found was sincerity and vulnerability. "You do?" She whimpered.

"Oh no flower, don't cry. Hate seeing tears in those pretty eyes," He began to wipe them away as soon as they fell from her eyes.

"I'm sorry," She blubbered, "I never imagined... I never imagined someone could feel this way about me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Never thought I'd be in love either but here we are," He chuckled, "Love you so much, m'favourite flower." He rubbed their noses together.

Y/N's pouty lips sprouted into a beautiful smile, "I love you too Harry, more than anyone in the whole world."

"Y’ already told me that once before." He smiled, a mixture of adoration and a touch of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I did?” She frowned.

“Mhm,” Harry nodded, “Before you fell asleep, you mumbled it and told me you loved me and when you woke up y’ didn’t remember.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed knowing she admitted something so big in her sleep.

“Honestly,” Harry told her, “Think y’ were probably dreaming or something.”

“Is this a dream? Feels like it,” Y/N whispers.

“S most certainly not a dream m’love.” Harry kissed her quickly, “Gonna love you forever I think.”

She leant forward, running her fingers through his hair as his head fell back. He hummed at the feeling, biting on his lip to stop himself from smiling so much before burying his face in the crook of her neck - in the place he loved so much. "Promise." He whispered, lips ghosting her skin.

Their fingers traced lazy patterns on each other's skin, a silent communication between them. The room was filled with the hushed whispers of their love, as if time had slowed down so they could savour the sweetness of this very moment.

Y/N yawned which made the corner of Harry's lips turn upwards, "Y' done fixing me up now? Wanna go t' bed love?" She nodded, wrapping herself around him. He reminded himself to clean away the first aid kit in the morning, his priority was getting his girl some much-needed sleep.

She curled into him when they lay in his small bed, her head resting on his chest right where her heart was. She played with his hair and he ran a hand up and down her bare back underneath her pyjama shirt, "I love you," She murmured into the quiet.

He hoped she could hear his heart beat a little faster at her words, "I love you s' much, flower. With everything in me, gonna be mine forever y'are." He mumbled the words into her ear.

Harry cupped the side of her face as her tired, glossy eyes looked at him with so much love and adoration, that he didn’t know what to do with it all. In the dimly lit room, they leaned in close, their breath mingling as their lips met in a gentle, passionate kiss. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangled in his hair. They explored each other's mouths, lost in the heat of the moment, their bodies pressed together. Each kiss was filled with longing and desire, igniting a fire between them that burned brighter with every touch.

“I’ve never loved anyone before,” Y/N whispered to him.

“Really?” Harry smiled.

“You’re my first love.” Y/N has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling so wildly but Harry tugs her lip with his thumb and suddenly her smile is so wide her cheeks turn pink.

“You’re my first and only love.” He murmured.

She liked that and she loved him.

This was exactly where they were both meant to be —with the person who had become not only their first love but their forever love too.

A flower tattooed to his heart.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #tattooartist x innocent reader #harry styles writing #writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #one direction #virgin!reader #harry styles au

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year

Text

Straw Hat Men with you in a Skirt W/O Panties 🍋

Summary: How your boyfriend would react if they saw you on deck, wearing a skimpy skirt with no underwear.

Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, penetration, sexual frustration, groping, fingering, oral (f receiving)

Monkey D. Luffy:

He wasn't anticipating anything exciting ho happen today. The crew had been at sea for weeks with no destination in sight. If he didn't know any better, it might've occurred to him that Nami had gotten them lost. Needless to say, Luffy was bored out of his mind. Nobody to play games with, and nothing to do.

So when he made his way to the deck and found you leaning over the railing, what little fabric was on your hips billowing in the breeze, his interest was peaked. The closer he got, the more it dawned on him, that he could see flesh that shouldn't be visible. Deciding he had to see for himself, he strolled up to you, pressing his chest against your back, and cupping your ass, fingertips grazing your heat. "Why aren't you wearing panties?"

"Don't feel like it." you giggled. "Besides, everyone is so busy today, it's not like I'll get caught."

Luffy chuckled, a grin cracking his features. "I caught you though."

"You don't count, you're my boyfriend." you sighed playfully, 'accidentally' bending a bit deeper at the waist.

"It counts even more," he purred, leaning into your ear with a airy laugh. "'Cuz I'm also your captain." As if to punctuate his statement, his finger slipped into your sex, pumping shallowly. You sighed, laying your head back against his shoulder. "And as your captain I order you to get your ass to my room."

Roronoa Zoro:

All he wanted was rest, to nap in the sun after hours of working out, but you couldn't even give him that. He stirred awake to find you standing over him, hands clasped innocently behind your back. You loomed over him, standing between this open legs, smiling down at him. From his angle, be could barely see the the lack of fabric beneath your skirt, but it was enough.

Taking a quick glance around to ensure nobody could see, be hastily gripped the backs of your knees, pulling you forward. Lifting your skirt, he buried his face in your sex, slipping his tongue between your lips. You trembled at the way he sensually kissed your heat, with the same amount of passion he'd kiss your face with.

You whined softly as your fingers gripped what little hair he had as his head found shelter fully beneath the thin fabric that hugged your hips. "Shhhh..." he hushed, the vibrations against your clit making you weak at the knees. "Somebody'll hear."

"Z-Zoro..." you murmured pitifully. One of your dainty hands reached down to uncover his face, wanting to see him nestled in your thighs. Instead you were met with his dark, lusty eyes peering up at you.

God Usopp:

He had been descending the stairs from the cabin to the deck when he immediately stopped in his tracks. His haki alerted him to something in his path at was amiss. Quickly, he scanned the area to make sure nobody else was there to see what he was, before hopping down the rest of the steps and darting over to confront you. "What do you think your doing?" he hissed, flustered as could be.

"Enjoying the warm weather." you giggled, leaning over the railing of the Sunny. Some how the nonchalant energy of your answer made the irritation in his cheeks worse.

"Weather, my ass!" he replied, fists clenched with embarrassment. "Why do you have you ass out on deck?"

"Why are you looking?" you quipped playfully.

"It's kinda hard not to when I can see it from the top of the stairs. What if someone else sees you?" he worried, his eye twitching in annoyance from your lack of concern.

"Awe," you snickered, turning your body to face his as he pinned you against the railing. "Is somebody jealous?" you teased, palming him through his pants before grinding yourself against him.

"No," he breathed with furrowed brows. "Just don't want anybody else seeing what's mine."

"Is that right?" you cooed, slipping your hand into his waistband to give him a few playful pumps. "Maybe we should take this back to the workshop, then? That way you can have me all to yourself."

Vinsmoke Sanji:

He hummed softly, setting out his ingredients for dinner when you strolled in. "Need any help, babe?" you offered, trying your best to look innocent.

"I got it, love," he replied with a gentle smile. "But you're welcome to stay if you want." He turned back to his prep station, only to realize that he forgot one thing: garlic. "Hey, actually, do you mind handing my a clove of garlic from the shelf over there?"

Nothing could've prepared Sanji to watch you bed over, only to be fully nude beneath that tiny skirt. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, before he set the knife that he'd planned to chop the garlic with down. Quietly, he approached you as you were still bent at the hip, and firmly grasped your hips. "Mon amour," he purred, unbuckling his belt with a single hand, before pulling out his erect cock and rubbing it against your heat with little warning.

The sweet gasps he pulled from you gave him life and spurred him on to slip into you. "S-Sanji..." you moaned quietly.

"Laisse moi te baiser correctement, mon ange."

Translation:

"Mon amour," = "My love,"

"Laisse moi te baiser correctement, mon ange." = "Let me fuck you right, my angel."

#one peice #one piece smut #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy smut #zoro smut #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #usopp smut #god usopp #usopp x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji smut #sanji x reader #one piece hcs

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itoshiexx · 5 months

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when you call them "husband"

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband".

pairings: itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "mrs." and "wifey") (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, kissing, the boys are simps, shidou is a warning itself

notes: hi guys! another one of these scenarios since you guys seemed to like the other one so much <3 thank you for all your love and support! also it's my first time writing for shidou so i hope this isn't absolute garbage.

Itoshi Sae

one of your and sae’s favorite couple activities was driving around the city. you loved the feeling of madrid’s summer breeze kissing your face and messing up your hair, and sae… well, he would never admit that, but sae loved anything that made you happy, even if it meant driving with no clear destination in mind until his feet hurt. so it was no wonder you convinced him to do just that on that afternoon.

after half an hour of wandering around town on a porsche, you decided that some starbucks would do both of you well. your little pleading eyes quickly convinced sae to stop by one, letting you order since the intercom was on your side.

“welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you today?” the man’s voice came out of the intercom, the spanish accent still making it a bit difficult for sae to fully comprehend, despite living in madrid for years now.

“hi! i’d like a caramel frappuccino and a chocolate muffin, please.”

“anything else?”

you turned to him, asking in a whisper, “what do you want, baby?”

“just an iced matcha tea latte.” he shrugged. you smiled, and sae had to fight the urge to smile too. it was maddening, really — how much of an effect you had on him with something as simple as a turn of lips.

he watched as you turned back to the intercom, “and my husband wants an iced matcha tea latte. that would be all, thank you.”

distracted, sae started to take his foot off the brake to go to the payment booth, but suddenly his body froze. he furrowed his eyebrows, confusion etched on his teal eyes.

wait.

fucking wait.

sae didn’t register what the guy on the intercom said next, much less what you answered. he didn’t even notice the line of cars behind him and the need to move forward. all that mattered was that one word that fell from your mouth seconds prior.

“what did you call me?” he asked, silently afraid that it was all a trick from his mind fed on his deepest wishes.

it was only then you seemed to realize what you said. “o-oh, i… i’m sorry, it just— it just came out…” you squeaked, bashful. fuck, you were so pretty like that, with your cheeks rosy while averting his gaze.

sae smirked, pinching your chin so that you would look at him. he kissed you with a sweetness that wasn’t usually present in his bitter mouth, and you melted at his gentleness.

“don’t apologize,” he said as he broke the kiss. “i liked that, mrs. itoshi.”

it seemed like it was finally time for that velvet box on the bottom of his drawer.

Shidou Ryusei

peace. peace was all you wished for — at least a little bit. five minutes on the phone to schedule an appointment was not asking for much, was it?

apparently, for shidou, it was.

you were well aware your boyfriend was selfish, and that was an universal rule when it came to your attention. considering he spent a lot of time away for games overseas, you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, since you wanted it too.

however, you really needed to schedule your doctor’s appointment, and your whiny boyfriend was making this task extremely difficult. every time you started talking to the lady on the other side of the phone, ryusei would butt in with very unnecessary comments that made your eyes roll. you apologized profusely to the woman about a hundred times, and she assured you it was okay. she even said it was sweet.

if you weren’t so annoyed, you would have thought it was sweet, too. ryusei was never one to shy away from expressing his love, even if it meant embarrassing you and himself in the process (although he was completely shameless, so it made no difference).

“will anyone pick you up after your exam, ma’m?”

you could faintly hear what the woman was saying, since shidou was babbling nonsense in your ear as if you weren’t on a phone call. it made you sigh, and you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“yes, my husband will pick me up.”

and then, silence.

it took you a minute to realize that the outside noise disappeared and ryusei had completely stopped talking. you blinked a couple times, confused, and turned your head to look at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. to your surprise, he was blushing and gaping like a fish, in what seemed to be utter disbelief.

you braced yourself for what was about to come.

“HUSBAND?!”

ah, there it is. his scream pierced through the living room, and you were certain even the other side of the country heard it.

“thank you for everything, ma’m. i should be going now,” you told the receptionist. she only giggled and wished you a good day.

the second you put your phone down, ryusei’s arms were around your middle, lifting you up and twirling you around like some cliche romance movie. your prior annoyance melted away in a second, and you could only giggle like a schoolgirl in love.

“awww, ya wanna be my wifey?” he cooed, putting you down without letting you go. his nose touched yours and you blushed with the intensity of his stare.

though you wouldn’t back down.

“of course i do, ryu.” you smiled sweetly. your boyfriend stared at you, shocked and bashful for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then groaned when broken from his stupor.

what a little devil, he thought.

and then he kissed you, intense and dominating like only ryusei knew how to be, prodding his tongue in your mouth when you gasped and savoring every corner of your mouth. it was one of those kisses that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, and he could tell from the hazy look in your eyes when he finally backed away.

“fuck, i love you so much. you ‘gon be my wifey, baby, i promise ya.”

Isagi Yoichi

you were usually the one to accompany yoichi to parties — mostly galas thrown by sponsors who wanted to secure a deal with some sports hotshot —, so, for him, it was a breath of fresh air to be your plus one on the holiday party of the company you worked for.

since the company in question was a corporation, it was no wonder the decoration was flawless, with lots of gold and red to represent the christmas that would soon arrive. the soundtrack was mainly composed of classical music, and he smiled watching you enjoying a vivaldi song. it reminded him of the early days of your relationship, where you teached him about your favorite classic musicians such as beethoven, mozart, ludovico einaudi and chopin.

your arms were linked as you wandered around the hall, and, non surprisingly, everyone seemed to want to talk to you. of course they would; you were the sweetest, kindest and smartest soul to walk on this earth. isagi couldn’t be more proud of all the recognition you were getting, because you deserved more than anyone he knew.

“are you having fun, baby?” you suddenly asked. the striker finally noticed he had been staring at you for a while as you drank a glass of champagne. he blushed, but nodded.

“how could i not? i’m with you.”

a giggle left your lips along with a fond roll of your eyes, and yoichi couldn’t help but think that, if he could listen to a single sound forever, he would choose your laugh in a heartbeat.

“you’re so silly, yoichi,” you playfully chastised him, but stepped forward to give a kiss to his cheek. he smiled, circling your waist with one arm and pulling so that your bodies were glued.

“what can i say, you make me silly, sweetheart.”

“isn’t that what love is supposed to do?” a third voice suddenly spoke, slightly startling the both of you and breaking you from your little bubble.

you put down your glass on a waiter’s tray, smiling at the man that arrived. “mr. tanaka! what a pleasure it is to see you here.”

“of course! i wouldn’t miss such a party!” he exclaimed, laughing a little loud for the etiquette of that kind of gala, but no one seemed to mind.

“and who is this?” he asked, pointing to isagi.

“this is my husband, isagi yoichi. he came today to support me.”

with such simple words, yoichi’s mind went silent.

he could faintly discern the man saying something about being a soccer enthusiast and a bastard munchen’s fan — mostly from reading his lips, since his ears were buzzing —, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. isagi’s heart was beating so pathetically fast that if he weren’t an athlete, he was pretty sure he would faint right there.

husband. you called him your husband.

did that mean you wanted to marry him? he’s been wanting to propose for a while. you have been dating for five years, after all, and yoichi was sure there was no one else in this world he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. did you only say that because you already lived together? or did you actually want a wedding ceremony with all your friends and family, signing the paper that would bound you for good? until death do us part, he remembered. though yoichi would love you even after dying—

“dear?” you called him, worry in your tone. it’s only then he realized he got lost in his thoughts, and both you and mr. tanaka were staring at him.

“oh, sorry. it’s really nice to meet you, sir.” he shook the man’s hand, engaging in conversation.

while you watched them, you smiled coyly, hoping isagi took the hint.

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whorekneecentral · 6 months

Text

Winter Wonderland

Toto Wolff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: toto would do anything for reader, some friendly teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a bit of an age gap (reader's late 20s/early 30s), handsy toto, the two of you are kinda drunk, daddy kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight edging, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 1,772

Author's Note: this one goes out to all the dilf lovers.

merry smutmas series

Your husband skips out on Christmas every year due to work but this year, he ends up in London. You make it your mission to introduce him to some holiday fun.

Toto had one last work engagement to do this week before he's officially off for the holidays and it took him to London. So by extension, you made it to London as well.

Your husband had left you in the hotel, promising you that he'll be back in a few hours after doing his final work meeting before he was on holiday break.

When he returns, he finds you in the same spot he left you, on the couch. "Babe, have you not gotten up all day?"He asks, shrugging his coat off.

"I did, I ordered room service so I had to get it from the door," you tell him, eyes glued to the TV.

Toto laughs, making his way over to sit next to you. You lean into the man, his arms wrapped around you and you can still feel the chill on his skin despite him wearing a coat when he was outside. It takes him a second to realize that you weren't in your pyjamas, but you were dressed as if you were going out.

The man looks at you with raised eyebrows, there's a hint of a smile on your face. "I know that look, what are you up to?" He asked.

"Okay I know you're probably tired but we leave for home tomorrow and I really wanna go!"

"Go where?"

"Hyde park," you tell him, showing him the pictures of their winter wonderland on your phone. "I saw the ad already for their winter wonderland today and then I looked it up and I fell into a loophole, so now we have tickets." You smiled sweetly at him - if there was one thing more important to Toto than work, it was you and your happiness.

"Are you serious, y/n?"

"Yes, now come on," you get up, trying to pull him up. Toto huffs, "I have emails to answer." He reluctantly follows you to the door.

"The emails will still be here when you get back," you handed him his coat before putting your own on. "Let's go."

Toto drives, of course - not like he ever lets you drive anyways. The first half hour was just the two of you trying to find your way around, it was a lot more packed than you were expecting but to be fair it was a week until Christmas, so it was to be expected you suppose.

You grab his hand and pull him towards what seems to be a circus tent. Toto looks at you a bit unsure for a moment, "is this.. an actual circus?" He followed you in and his question was answered; it was.

He sits next to you in the back row, the two of you waiting for the show to start. "Are you 5? Why are we at the circus ?"

"I mean, in comparison to you, I basically am." You smiled and he chuckled, his hand in yours as you two watched the show.

He would never admit it to you but he enjoyed doing things like this with you, it was nice to see that you kept a bit of your childishness alive.

After the circus, you made your way around the park once more, taking a million photos and trying out all the games until Toto was lugging around a big bag with stuffed animals.

"Do you think that's enough?" He asks, walking towards the car. You shrugged, "I guess but I'm hungry now."

"Dinner then?" He suggests, nodding to the busy street. You're not, fingers interlocking with your husband as you walk down the street towards no actual destination in mind. You were just hoping to stumble upon a place that wasn't too busy.

And eventually you did, a little restaurant tucked away between all the madness. You and Toto sat at a table by the window, the table covered in junk food and a bottle of cheap wine.

"Did you have fun tonight ?" You asked your husband, popping a fry into your mouth. He shrugs, taking a sip of wine. You can't help but roll your eyes, "you totally did! Don't lie."

Toto laughs, a grin on his face. "Yeah, okay. I did have a little fun, but maybe next time find an indoor activity?"

"Nope," you popped the P, "as your wife, it's my job to make your life unnecessarily complicated, just for fun."

He rolls his eyes, taking some fries off your plate. "You'll be the death of me."

You two ended up topping off the bottle of wine, Toto pays the bill and his fingers interlock with yours as you walk back to the car. The streets have calmed by now, but there's a few people walking around on their way to wherever.

Your husband pulls you into his side, your arm wrapped around his torso as you make it back to the car. The man has you leaning on the hood, his cold hands cupping your cheeks before he kisses you. His hands wander and you blush, stopping him.

"Not here."

"Don't tell me you're getting shy on me." He kisses along your cheek, the tip of his nose cold as it rubs against your skin.

You giggled, giving him a slight shove off of you. "We're in the middle of the street, it's more like stopping you from getting arrested for public indecency."

He laughs, opening the car door for you and letting you get in. Toto's hand rests on your thigh the entire drive back to the hotel and he can barely keep his hands off of you to make it up to the room.

His lips on your neck, arms wrapped around you from behind, the two of you giggling as you attempt to open the door.

"It's not opening," you grumbled, trying to unlock the door.

Toto pulls on the handle a bit, pressing the key to it. "Finally," he says when the lock clicks, "let me unwrap my gift."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at your husband's cheesy use of the words, but you let him drag you into the room and drop you on the bed.

He's careful, even though he's drunk - his movements are exact as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, tossing it into the pile of clothes that's developing on the floor.

"Move your legs, baby." He whispers, moving them up to rest on the edge of the bed as he drops himself down onto his knees. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Toto drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy.

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the red lace that covered your cunt.

You smile, “I know. Wore it just for you, daddy." The name makes the man smile.

Toto can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the red lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more.

Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much.

He's sick and twisted and pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers wiped on your inner thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.

"I hate you," you grumbled, your husband smiles as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "You love me."

"Sometimes."

He smiles, standing up to undo his pants. Toto pulls you back to the edge of the bed, one of your legs hitch on his hip as his hand wanders.

Your eyes fixed on his hand that was moving down your chest at the moment. Toto's lips follow his fingers, kissing and leaving little marks as he goes along his way. His tongue brushes over your nipple, your back arches involuntarily; your body betrays you.

Your eyes find his and his hand rubbing along your thigh before pulling you toward the edge of the bed a little more before he pushes into you. The other ankle is over his shoulder now.

He fucks you the way he knows you like it; rough.

You were a sight to see; back arched off the bed, hair sprawled out in perfect curls, eyes closed and your head tilted back, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the millionth time.

He’s never seen a prettiest sight.

He feels you clench around him, the hand on his shoulder digs in, your nails leaving behind their own set of marks. His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again.

“Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of him.

“C’mon pretty girl, want you to cum for me.” he says, knowing it won't be long more, especially not after him leaving you on the edge earlier.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

"Open your eyes, baby, look at me." He whispers, kissing you softly.

A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge. He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, he follows behind you.

It takes you a second to gather yourself and register that your husband has collapsed on top of you. Your hands rubbing over his back.

"You okay?" you asked him quietly and the man nodded, moving so you two could lay comfortably.

Your leg draped over his, his arm wrapped over your shoulder. You catch him staring at you and you smile, nodding. "What?"

"We should come to London every year."

"Yeah," you nod, resting your head on his chest. "I'd like that."

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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gutsby · 6 months

Text

Cherry Pie

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Warnings: NSFW. Corruption kink!!! Loss of virginity. Messy, unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Daryl puts your promise ring on his tongue while he eats you out and does it in front of someone else, in secret. Half-baked breeding kink and an indirect marriage proposal.

Love him or hate him, the man played to win.

Daryl was one of those few unflinchingly stubborn motherfuckers who never saw a challenge he didn’t like, or a game he couldn’t beat. The world at large was his personal sports arena, and everyone around him a rival. You suspected that was why, with his hands planted on either one of your thighs and a smile as wide as the moon shining bright above you two, you almost felt inclined to believe him when he’d said:

“I’m gonna pop tha’ cherry someday, just wait.”

You remembered staring at him in a mixture of confusion and disbelief, hardly computing the words he’d spoken.

“What’s a cherry?” you’d asked.

Daryl just grinned even bigger and dropped a kiss over your two, tightly knit eyebrows, grabbing your hand to hoist you back onto your feet. Then he’d led you back, promising to tell you everything in due time.

That was six months ago—and you hardly knew more about this wild, elusive “cherry” today than you did back then. The longer Daryl led you down this rabbit hole, the more you started to believe this whole thing was nothing but a sordid working of your friend’s imagination. Another sinister game you were destined to lose.

Presently, you squeezed his head tight between your thighs and gripped the headboard even harder, rutting your hips in the most obscene manner above Daryl’s outstretched tongue. You felt your whole body tremble with pleasure, and in a matter of seconds, that merciless, mind-numbing bliss came crashing over your senses.

Orgasms, you’d learned a little over a week ago, weren’t just the stuff of dreams but a real life bodily release. Ever since Daryl had made you privy to that secret euphoric source, it seemed you were aching for it all hours of the day; accordingly, you’d made a frequent seat of Daryl’s face and rode that wave every chance you got. There were moments you feared the man might suffocate between your thighs, but he came up smiling every time.

At length, Daryl happily lapped up the last drops of your arousal and hummed an appreciative note below.

You slid—or, more aptly, collapsed—down his body and brought your head to rest on his chest, panting in awe.

“You bastard,” you hissed.

“That good?” Daryl grinned.

“Surely this...oral fixation isn’t gonna last forever, is it?”

You tilted your head just in time to see Daryl swiping his thumb over his bottom lip before bringing it down to your own. Coaxing the digit between your lips and waiting for you to suck it, all wide-eyed and innocent.

“Mhmm,” he nodded, pushing his finger even further. Whether he was answering your question or simply urging you to take more of him, you couldn’t be sure.

Though you weren’t particularly fond of that unfamiliar taste in your mouth, you accepted it anyway and sucked on his thumb like you knew he wanted you to do. You even got the sense he liked when your eyes locked on his, so you did that too, just staring and suckling and feeling a bit like a fool. Daryl groaned and drove his finger even deeper, smiling when your throat convulsed around him.

He withdrew his hand and admired the strings of saliva that followed it. Then, with that same hand, he patted your head affectionately.

“Gettin’ there,” he said. Already sliding off your bed and heading toward the bathroom.

Getting where? You thought, almost forlorn at the sight of his retreating figure.

Daryl did this every time—lick, rub, and tonguefuck you dumb ‘til you came all over his face, then leave you sprawled out on your bed while he locked himself away in another room. It was bewildering.

He wouldn’t tell you why he left, or what he was doing while tucked away from your prying eyes, but you surmised it had something to do with the lump in his jeans. That zipped-up, bulging mass that always seemed to disappear mere minutes after leaving your presence, the “puffy” thing you’d prodded once or twice above the fabric of his pants. You ached to know what inhabited that space between his legs, and even more, what made it vanish so fast. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to suss out that those parts of him had something to do with the analogous parts on you, so it seemed you had only to feel yourself up to get a little closer to the truth.

You slipped a hand between your thighs and ran a touch down your slick, throbbing core.

You hardly knew what you were doing; you just wanted to learn more.

A shiver passed over your lower half as your fingers grazed a particularly raw spot, one you remembered Daryl calling your clit. It didn’t feel the same beneath your trembling touch.

Nothing did, in fact. You pushed a finger inside yourself and barely made it to the second knuckle before your walls started to sting.

What made Daryl’s tongue feel so good that wouldn’t work the same for your own hands?

An exasperated sigh shuddered through your chest, and your eyes started to close. You teased another finger at your entrance, hoping to simulate the same sensation of Daryl’s mouth, but you whimpered when it burned. You bit your lip, braced yourself, and stupidly ventured for a third, when something tore your attention away.

You jolted back in bed and shot a look to the side, where Daryl had your offending hand pinched between two fingers. You peered up at him and saw him scowl.

“’Fuck ye think yer doin’?” he snapped.

You bit back your nerves and surprised yourself with a quick return, spoken just as sternly:

“Touching myself, Daryl, what does it look like?”

You tried to yank your hand away, but Daryl kept it close to his body. Squeezed it even harder.

“I thought we talked about tha’,” he said, his voice annoyingly even, “We said ye weren’t allowed to touch yerself ‘less I was there with ya.”

You couldn’t help it. You pulled hard on your hand and pried yourself out of his grasp. Then you slotted it right back between your legs, eyes never leaving his.

“We haven’t talked about anything, Daryl. You won’t tell me a goddamn thing about this...thing of mine, or yours, or anything,” you said, flustered and unable to keep from repeating your words the longer you tried racking your brain of its limited vernacular.

You pretended not to notice when Daryl’s eyes drifted down your body, and the once-flat seam of his jeans started to stir. Didn’t spare a second glance when he shifted uncomfortably on his feet and seemed to waver, indeterminately, between two warring ideas in his brain.

In truth, he was debating whether to fuck you senseless right there on your plush, lacy sheets or else sit back and watch you try and piece yourself together, all misguided fingertips and muffled whimpers before his hungry gaze. And, if he were a little more honest with himself, he would admit he wasn’t just hungry but starved for your affections, seeing you splayed across the covers with your fingers dipped between your folds and fumbling around without the faintest idea of where to put them.

You’d been born and raised within the four walls of this post-apocalyptic community and hadn’t strayed an inch outside a second in your life. Folks like you, afforded the unique luxury of never needing to leave the asylum, simply had no reason to learn life’s dirtier dimensions.

You knew the birds and the bees and your mother’s ardent pleas never to let a man corrupt you down there if he wasn’t your husband, but you didn’t even know how that corruption came to be. You were pure, unblemished territory, blinking up at Daryl with the widest eyes of naïveté, and part of him couldn’t bear the thought of taking that away from you—not yet, at least.

Another part of him felt the urge to defile you in the worst ways imaginable, right then and there, with both your parents lounging obliviously downstairs.

While he fought every filthy-minded inclination in his body, Daryl took a seat on the edge of your bed. Averted his eyes from your fingers and swallowed.

“Hey.” He nudged you.

You flinched with the soft intrusion and opened your eyes to look at him.

Instead of finding your touch replaced as they normally would be, you felt your fingers pried from between your thighs and clasped in both of Daryl’s hands.

Then, gently, a touch trailed down your fourth finger. Daryl stopped at the thin silver band adorning its base and wriggled it between his own forefinger and thumb.

“Can ya tell me what this is?” he murmured.

You eyed him uncertainly before looking down at the ring yourself.

“A promise ring,” you answered quietly.

“A promise to who?” Daryl pressed.

“My— uh, my future husband.”

Daryl squeezed the petite metallic flower that was melded to the ring, pressing it between his fingers as if to prove a point.

“Gettin’ hitched any time soon?” he quizzed, a hint of a smile rising to his lips.

“No, but—”

“So you’ve got this hypothetical husband you’re promisin’ yerself to, hm?” Daryl plodded on, pretending not to hear you, “And that thing yer promisin’, it must be pretty important, ain’t it?”

You rolled your eyes and started to pull away, but Daryl made sure to keep your hand locked in place. When you didn’t answer, he pushed the question again—“Sumn’ real, real special, no?”—laced with a little extra venom in his words.

This time, you were the one to feign ignorance, opting instead to shuffle back in the sheets and play stupid as you retreated into the comfort of your bed. Daryl loosened his grip, but not before he’d plucked the ring from your finger. Then he mirrored your movements and made his way up your body, proceeding to plant his hands on either side of your head on the pillow.

Somewhere in the mix, he’d taken your ring between his teeth. He displayed it proudly above you with a smile.

“C’mon, hon. Tell me,” he coaxed between gritted teeth.

When he sensed your tight-lipped pout wasn’t about to budge, he took the ring out of sight and seemed to move off of you. As it was, he simply slid down your body and toward your parted legs. You tensed.

“Daryl,” you started to plead the moment he’d descended between your knees. He was already getting comfortable.

“It’s a very simple question, Y/N,” Daryl murmured, words a bit more distorted than usual.

You couldn’t bear the sight of him teasing you there but also seemed unable to tear your gaze away. You pulled at his hair, helplessly, and had only to beg him not to play these idiotic games. Unfortunately for you, Daryl’s competitive edge had taken a hit, and he was too taken with the thrill of the challenge to heed your wishes.

His mouth had moved dangerously close to your center. You could feel each gentle puff of his lungs fan across your folds.

Then, incredibly, you watched his tongue emerge from his mouth, and, instead of delving right into your heat, he let it rest between his lips, flashing something light and shiny on its surface.

Your ring.

This sick fuck.

“Give it back,” you snapped, clamping your legs over his stupid, smirking head.

One of Daryl’s palms pushed flat against your stomach, pinning you to the mattress so you couldn’t squirm out of reach. Perhaps you should’ve fought back, but in all honesty, you were too entranced by the sight of his tongue to think much else. A whimper caught in your throat the second he made contact with your wet, swollen core.

It seemed Daryl had maneuvered your ring over the tip of his tongue and was dragging a line up your slit. Pushing the metal petals of the flower against your clit, drawing soft, placid circles, and looking you dead in the eyes all the while.

Then he dipped below to your dripping hole and pushed the ring inside of it.

Daryl lifted his head and licked his lips.

“Wanna tell me now?” he grinned.

Your mind was buzzing a million miles per minute, spinning so fast you feared you couldn’t speak, but somehow, you managed to stammer out:

“Chrysanthemums.”

You bit your lip and watched him wait for you to catch your breath. You could scarcely collect your thoughts fast enough to finish.

“The flower— i-it means fidelity, or something. Mom says the ring’s supposed to be a sign of my commitment to my husband.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows.

“And ya know just what yer committin’ to the lucky bastard?” he asked.

You shook your head. Honest, this time.

In response, Daryl moved a finger to your entrance and dragged it in a gentle circular motion, careful not to disturb the ring he’d pushed inside.

“Tha’s it,” he said, his voice almost lowered to a whisper, “Tha’s the spot, honey.”

He locked eyes with you once more, and suddenly, you understood. All the apprehension and dread, distress, and foreboding decorum surrounding that floral token. Every thinly-veiled euphemism from your mother and father and the soft, assuaging delicacies crafted to fall on deaf ears. The answer was with you all along and somehow the furthest thing from your comprehension.

“My...cherry?”

Daryl nodded and chuckled. He took the ring back on the tip of his finger and started to push it farther inside of you.

“Your virginity,” he said.

When you flinched at the feeling, Daryl straightened himself up and brought his other hand to rub your thigh. Sitting across from you now with a touch of concern straining his features.

“I won’t really touch it ‘less ya want me to,” he mumbled, eyes flickering between yours in earnest.

“You can,” you said softly, perhaps a little too quickly, “Just don’t...pop it, okay?” His previous declaration danced before your mind in flashing letters.

Daryl bit back a smile and assured you he wouldn’t.

The two of you were perched on your bed, seated face-to-face and staring down at the small space between you. Cautiously, almost, Daryl came to slide his finger further inside your body, and at the last you watched the whole thing disappear right down to the knuckle.

You waited. Daryl looked up to find your gaze, and you stared back, almost afraid to blink.

“I ain’t no doctor or nothin’,” Daryl began, slowly, “But yer cherry’s s’posed’a be up there.” He wiggled his finger to punctuate his point.

“What is it?” you breathed.

That was a good question. Daryl sat and contemplated his options, how he might politely explain things to you. In the end, he settled on saying,

“Just skin, really.”

“Skin?”

“Yeah, uh, somethin’ called a high-men, I think. Just a stretch’a skin in the middle of yer...cunt, or whatever, and, uh, I guess it gets all tore up when the—” Daryl cut his speech short, cursing himself for getting so thick in the weeds of it without the slightest idea as to how he would explain that dreaded next part.

“Tore up when? Why?” Your eyes widened.

“No, no, not tore up or nothin’—I didn’t mean it like tha’ —I’m just sayin’ it gets popped. By a...a, you know…”

“I don’t know, Daryl, tell me,” you cried, your voice already starting to shake.

Daryl slipped his finger out of your heat, floral ring and all.

This was a bad idea, he thought. You were already halfway in a panic, concocting the wildest notions in your mind of what horrors lay ahead. Daryl ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“What pops the cherry, Daryl?” you pressed, trying to reign in your fear as you spoke.

Daryl peered down at the tiny ring atop his index finger and felt a pang of guilt. This wasn’t going how he’d planned. When his eyes wandered back to yours and first caught a glimpse of the apprehension welled up behind them, he knew he couldn’t drag this on any longer.

“Just a...guy’s, uh, private parts,” he said at last.

“The puffy stuff?” you returned promptly.

Daryl nodded, almost charmed by the term you’d given his penis, were he not so humiliated by this disaster of an anatomy lesson.

You heaved a sigh of relief and fell back on the bed.

“Thank fuck!”

Daryl shot you a curious look. Before he could ask what on earth you meant by that, you supplied him with an answer, rejoining,

“Thought you had to stick a knife up there or somethin’.”

“Why would I do that, dumbass?” Daryl’s nostrils flared.

“You tell me! You’re the one saying you’d tear me up,” you giggled.

Oh, I would, Daryl thought reflexively. He regained his composure in an instant and chided himself.

“Shit gets messy, tha’s all I meant,” he said.

You were quick to sit up again, the fear in your eyes shortly supplanted by intrigue. Inching closer to him.

“Show me how,” you grinned as your hands skimmed toward the seam of his jeans.

“Show you what?”

“How your puffy stuff works,” you said, exasperated.

“It’s a penis, Y/N!”

Daryl shot up from the bed before you could lay a finger on his crotch.

He knew you wanted to know but wasn’t quite sure you’d be pleased with what you’d see—your understanding of the male form, he’d come to realize, was even cruder than your knowledge of your own. What if you got one good look at his love gun and fled for your life?

If you were to handle it any worse than the way you’d reacted when he’d first told you his mouth wasn’t just good for talking, he’d have his work cut out for him.

At length, he grasped his belt buckle in one hand and kept your promise ring tucked snug on the other.

“If I show ya, y’promise not to scream or nothin’?”

You stood—or, rather, kneeled—at attention on the edge of the bed and nodded.

“Promise.”

“A’right then.”

Daryl had never felt so exposed, or vulnerable, taking a garment off his body. Each time he’d unbuckled himself and shoved his jeans and briefs down before, it was never to strip himself completely—just to free his cock and give him space enough to rut into whatever woman was willing to share his bed for the night. This was pushing his pants down his legs and actually stepping outside them, standing stock-still on the floor and hoping, foolishly, that you’d like the sight in front of you.

Fortunately for him, you loved it. Or, at the very least, seemed engaged.

Your lips unconsciously parted as the outline of his length came into view. You sucked in a breath. With your pupils blown wide and your mouth hanging open, drool liable to spill out any second, Daryl reckoned you looked a bit obscene. He liked it.

He was palming himself over his briefs in gentle strokes, taking his damn sweet time as he took a couple steps closer to you.

“Now tell me what this is called,” he said, watching you ogle every inch.

“A cock,” you answered.

Daryl almost choked on his spit. What happened to “puffy stuff” and all the rest of your innocent paranyms? Where the hell did you learn the word—

“Cock?” Daryl repeated.

“Yeah, like a rooster.” Smiling sweetly up at him.

“Who taught ya tha’ word?” Daryl’s voice broke out a little harsher than he intended, such that your smile came to fade, but he quickly repaired it with a brush of his knuckles on your cheek.

“You did, Dar,” you said, at the last.

“Me?”

“You’re always grabbin’ your junk and tellin’ people to suck your cock, I just figured—”

“Ah. Right.”

Daryl made a mental note not to get so shitfaced when you were around. And maybe educate you on the subject of blowjobs in a more delicate way, at a later date. For now, his focus was just on showing you his penis and hoping you wouldn’t run screaming.

By the looks of it, though, he didn’t suspect you’d have that problem. You quickly resumed your perch on the edge of the bed, staring and salivating at his clothed erection like it was the finest thing you’d ever seen.

Except you hadn’t seen it yet. Daryl was just then starting to hook his fingers under the waistband of his shorts and pull them down, all while watching for your first reactions.

When you saw small tufts of hair stemming from the base of his abdomen, you felt relief flood through you—thank goodness he had those too—and then the place underneath it was…something else entirely. The two of you shared similar patches of hair, and that was about it. In the place of a broad, empty plane of skin, you found a thick, reddish appendage. It was strange. The further Daryl tugged his briefs down his legs, the more you grew in your curiosity, ‘til the whole thing took you by surprise and snapped up against his stomach.

You saw the full length of his cock and almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“You wanna put that whole thing inside me?” you said without thinking.

That hadn’t been quite the reaction Daryl had been expecting, but he’d take it over shrieking and fleeing any day of the week. He eyed you with an unusually amused look and nodded.

“Whole thing,” he repeated.

You gave him one last skeptical look before nodding too, seeming to accept your fate. You scooted back in the bed and squeezed your eyes shut as you started to spread your legs in a supine position.

“Go on then,” you said, “Let’s get this over with.”

This time, Daryl’s amusement materialized in an outright laugh, and he came crawling up beside you in bed. Then he climbed on top of you and nudged your nose with his, ‘til eventually you opened your eyes again.

“That ain’t how it works, sunshine.”

You glanced down at the fiery pink, worm-like attachment poking up between your bodies and wanted to hide. Not so much because the sight of it frightened you but because you couldn’t fathom it fitting inside your body—and actually feeling good. You thought back to the words your mother had once used to describe that ugly, loathsome process of pleasing your husband and couldn’t imagine this was something any woman wanted to do. Maybe Daryl had had you duped all along to think any differently.

A swell of heat rose to your cheeks when Daryl dropped his hand between your legs.

“See— yer gonna spread these pretty things and let me go back down for a bit,” he said, already sliding toward the foot of the bed with a smirk, “Need ya nice and wet, a’right?”

You grabbed his arms before he could go any further.

“No,” you shook your head fiercely. Then, seeing the look of confusion on his face, adding, “I-I need you up here. With me.”

Daryl nodded in understanding. He kept his fingers brushing light against your inner thigh and looked you deep in the eyes.

“We can do whatever y’want. ‘S’all up to you, hon.”

He paused to bring his hand back up to your line of vision, holding your tiny ring on the tip of his finger. Wordlessly, it seemed, asking for your permission. You regarded the thing for a few seconds or more, while he watched you, and eventually, your gaze flickered back to his. You left the band where it was.

“Keep it,” you murmured.

“Honey, I can’t—”

Daryl was already starting to pull the ring off in protest, but you stalled his hands. Grasping them, momentarily, and holding them between you two.

“I want you to have it,” you said, smiling, “Want you to wear it right here.”

You reached up and tugged the thin silver chain dangling from Daryl’s neck. He looked down, confused.

You didn’t give him the chance to say another word. Reaching behind his head for the little metal clasp, you unhooked it swiftly and took the necklace in your hands. Made quick work of the ring and slipped it onto the chain, eyed it for a moment, then held it back up to him. Before Daryl could blink, you’d moved to re-secure the clasp around his neck and pulled the spindly metal strand to the front. Now the necklace hung a bit heavier on his chest with the weight of your ring strung across it.

Your name just then started to bubble to the surface of Daryl’s lips, but you leaned in and kissed him before the sound ever reached you.

“Yours,” you mumbled, kissing him softly.

Daryl kissed you back and held you tight. He stifled a groan when your legs came to wrap around his waist.

“Ye sure, honey?” he breathed, hardly able to string words together as the blood surged straight to his cock.

You giggled at the sights and sensations your new position afforded you, feeling Daryl’s throbbing member against your heat and seeing him fight every urge to push it forward. This felt easier, somehow, just pressed to each other’s bodies while your limbs tangled together in the sheets.

Daryl kissed your forehead. Lowered his hips so his swollen, leaking cock came to rest between your folds.

Instead of recoiling or contorting your features in a fearful wince, you moaned. You felt your body move against him and spread your arousal up and down his shaft. Eyes half-hooded with pleasure, you rolled your hips and raked your fingers down his back, and Daryl swore he could’ve cum from the sight of that alone.

You didn’t know what the hell you were doing; you just hoped it was something he liked.

When he reached for your chin and brought you in for a kiss, deeper and more desperate than you’d ever seen before, you felt a twinge of pride—closely accompanied by a wave of desire. You opened your mouth in an effort to moan again and were welcomed instead by Daryl’s slick, roaming tongue.

There was a strange sort of pressure between your legs. Something prodding you softly, keen to breach the threshold of your entrance but stopping short every time. You glanced between your bodies and saw Daryl gripping his cock like a vice down below.

“Honey, I— fuck,” his voice broke off in a moan, skimming the head of his cock down your slit, “I don’t wan’ this to hurt.”

You placed a kiss on the side of his mouth and nuzzled your nose against the stubble residing around it.

“It won’t,” you whispered. In truth, you were clueless.

Daryl shook his head, straining with the weight of his body above you. There was something he’d missed, something he needed to tell you before the two of you took things any further. It seemed that somewhere along the line, his mind had hardened to an opaque wall of lust, and he couldn’t retrieve a single thought. All he could do now was peer down into your wide, glossy eyes and pine for you, all impulses escaping him but the singular urge to make you his.

“I want you,” you said, softly, “all the way inside me.”

You took the tiny metallic chrysanthemum dangling above you—your promise ring that was presently hanging from Daryl’s chain—between your lips, and sucked it in a little. Remembering how much he loved to watch you take things on the tongue and roll it around in your mouth, you did just that and kept your eyes locked on his all the while. You slipped the tip of your tongue through the ring, just as Daryl had, and brought it right back into your mouth. You moaned at the taste, your juices still coating the band.

Your silent invitation wasn’t lost on Daryl in the slightest. In a second, his lips were back on yours, snagging the ring between your two mouths in a hot, frantic kiss, and the pressure at your core jumped to new heights as the head of his cock split you open.

Daryl hadn’t been with a virgin before. He thought the process of “breaking” one in and popping the cherry, so to speak, was meant to be taken literally, so he shoved himself in to the hilt in one forceful thrust.

“Fuck!” you said in unison, for two drastically different reasons.

He seemed on the brink of orgasm and you, the brink of tears, clawing at his back and trying not to cry.

The second Daryl saw your agonized expression, he panicked and pulled right out, but the force of the friction only amplified the pain. You clutched the sheets beside you and tried to stifle your whimpers, suddenly fearful for your parents’ hearing.

“Fuckin’ A,” you hissed, “I thought we were going slow!”

“I-I’m sorry— I thought that’s what I was s’posed’a do.”

“You said pop the cherry, not stab it to death.”

In spite of the ache inside you, you managed a playful look up at him and even giggled when he started flooding your face with little kisses. ‘I’m sorry’s tumbling just as profusely from his lips, repeated over and over ‘til you were begging him to let up and get back between your legs already.

Daryl eased himself down more carefully this time. He cradled your head in his arms and seemed almost loath to push himself inside you again. It wasn’t until you nodded your assent that he stirred his hips at all, taking a painstakingly slow approach to breaching your folds.

You felt the tip of his cock graze your entrance. Rub lightly up and down your slit to collect more of your juices.

“Tha’s a good fuckin’ girl,” Daryl growled, overwhelmed by the warmth of your arousal pooling around his cock. Remembering his position, however, he refrained from going any further.

“Is it wet enough?” you murmured.

“Uh-huh,” Daryl panted, gripping the sheets beside your head to keep from moving before you were ready. Then, softly, “I’ll be gentler this time, I promise, baby.”

You spread your legs a little wider and nodded. Dug your heels into his lower back to try to ease him in. Daryl readily aided your efforts and started pressing the head of his cock to the edge of your tight, aching hole.

He couldn’t have penetrated you any gentler if he tried. In spite of how wet you were, there still came a sting, and you seized his forearms the farther he pushed. Only this time Daryl was all eyes, watching and waiting and looking you up and down like another inch of his length might tear you in two. He sponged wet kisses up and down your jaw and hoped the brush of his lips would come as a welcome distraction from whatever discomfort you were suffering below.

Moreover, he found that talking you through it helped loosen your muscles. Whether you were aware of it or not, your were clenching hard on his cock, scarcely taking him more than an inch and unlikely to allow him any further if your walls stayed this rigid. Daryl started stroking your hair.

“So good f’me. So nice an’ sweet takin’ this cock,” he said, tone as tender as it had ever been.

You grimaced at the intrusion of another inch and held the back of his neck between your two hands even tighter. Daryl lowered his head to kiss you again.

“Sweetest thing I ever seen.” He pulled away to marvel at you, all flushed cheeks and quiet sighs.

It was clear you were just trying to survive with your consciousness intact, too focused on breathing and easing him in to think much else, so he nudged your chin to mumble even more quietly, “S’all gonna be okay, hon. I’m right here for ya.”

“Oh, I feel ya here. I know,” you quipped between labored breaths.

Before you could venture a smirk, you felt your walls start to pulse. The gentle throb of your warmth beckoned Daryl further into your cunt, and the two of you moaned at the sensation.

Your eyes shuttered closed, while Daryl’s drifted down below.

“Sonovabitch,” he said in a breath.

His gaze came to a stop and stayed glued on one small, absurd sight in particular: a bulge along your stomach.

He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing until he withdrew his length a little and saw the swell follow his movement. He watched the outline of his cock protrude from your belly, ran his fingers over the mound, and rutted his hips again, this time feeling it move under his own hand. Daryl was beside himself.

He placed his palm over the spot and pressed hard. He thrusted back and forth and heard a string of expletives sound beneath him as your eyes snapped open.

“Fuck, Daryl,” you whined, “What is that?”

“Cunt’s barely able to keep me in, I’m pokin’ out yer belly.” Daryl would’ve chuckled if he weren’t so violently aroused.

You threw your head back on the pillow and moaned. This new, added pressure above your stomach somehow made things better for you, like a spot inside was getting just the kind of touching it needed. You squirmed against Daryl and felt him bottom out inside you.

The two of you were watching it now, forehead to forehead—Daryl’s fingers spread across your tummy and the heel of his palm digging deep in that mound, your bodies making wet, squelching sounds again and again, and your pussy, for the first time, swallowing him whole. Daryl quickened his pace to an almost vicious cadence and brought his free hand to cup your face.

He jerked your head even closer, fingers knotting tight in your hair, “See this?”

You were barely able to nod as a knot of pleasure was just then starting to form in your stomach.

Daryl wasn’t having it. You felt his nails dig a set of white, angry crescents in your neck as he pulled your hair even harder.

“Big girl words, darlin’— use ‘em.”

You yelped when he yanked your head up to meet his gaze and shook you with a particularly brutal thrust down below.

“I see it!” you shrilled.

Daryl’s hand slipped from the back of your head and took your face in one pinch—almost crushing both cheeks and squeezing your lips in a ridiculous pout to look up at him. Then he smiled, sweet as ever, and placed a light kiss on your mouth.

“Are you a— a woman of yer word?” he asked.

His thrusts continued at breakneck speed. You whined.

“Huh?”

“Keep promises ya make?”

Daryl smiled even wider as he watched you come unraveled before his eyes. One hand placed on your stomach and the other still gripping your face, he made his merciless rounds and savored every last throb of your walls as he pounded you into the mattress. He knew those whines, could sense that that hold on his cock wasn’t just for show. You were close, and dangerously so.

You could scarcely speak above the buzz in your ears but managed to answer in the affirmative.

“Good,” Daryl cooed in your ear, “It’s settled, then.”

If you weren’t mere seconds from your release you would’ve told him that you couldn’t quite understand him with his head so far up his ass. The man was a Grade A prick when it came to telling riddles and senseless tales at the most inopportune times, but this one really took the cake.

Fortunately, Daryl proceeded without requesting any further input from you. He just pistoned his hips, pressed on your belly, and squeezed your cheeks even tighter as he continued on in a casual tone,

“Gonna cum all over this cock?”

You moaned and said you would.

Your legs tightened around Daryl’s waist as he groaned above you and slammed into you even harder.

“Gonna be my good little girl?” he growled, dropping his hand from your face to rub circles on your clit.

You shrieked and swore you would.

Daryl continued to rut his hips and nudge you closer and closer to the cusp of your release, eyes never leaving you. With each ruthless thrust, you felt the knot inside you double in size and send tremors straight down through your thighs, and the only thing keeping you grounded in place, it seemed, was Daryl. He grinned.

Then he leaned even closer, forced your legs even wider, and fucked you faster than he ever had before,

“Gonna be my good little wife one day?”

His words had barely registered before something inside you burst, and you went moaning, writhing, screaming on Daryl’s cock as your orgasm tore through your body. More powerful than any feeling Daryl’s tongue had wrought from you before, this was pure, primal ecstasy. You feared you might actually draw blood from his back with the slash of your fingernails down his skin.

Your body fell limp in the bed. You would’ve liked nothing more than for Daryl to keeping moaning and pumping in your blissful, fucked-out state, but it seemed the man had plans of his own. To your surprise, he jolted out of you a moment later and seized his cock in one hand, wringing it out in the roughest, most slipshod fashion. Daryl let out a long, protracted moan and jerked himself over and over.

Ropes of a milky white fluid sprayed your stomach.

Your eyes widened at the sight, as did Daryl’s. Though his grew not for want of understanding but rather realizing that thing he’d forgotten to tell you earlier.

Babies.

“Shit,” he hissed, already lowering both hands to wipe the stuff off your belly.

You were frozen in place and eyeing the foreign goo like it was the most frightening thing in existence.

“W-What the fuck is—” you said, only to be cut short.

This time, both of you seized with horror as a knock sounded on your bedroom door. Daryl, actively caught cum-handed, had little more to do than dive under the covers while you flailed your limbs and tried to collect every last pillow around you.

Your duvet was thick. Pillows and plush toys aplenty. You could only hope Daryl would keep his long legs bent at the knee and his two feet from sticking out at the end of the bed. Your eyes darted to the door as it opened.

“Hi, mom,” you chirped.

“Hey, pumpkin.”

Your mother paced the few short steps into your room and toward your bed, a warm smile on her face.

“Boogeyman keepin’ you up?” she teased.

You reckoned you thought of Daryl a little more fondly than that, but your mom wasn’t too far off-target.

“All night,” you answered.

Your legs shuddered under the sheets as Daryl nudged your red and fucked-raw pussy with his nose. Clearly not amused.

Then, as your mom had long been accustomed to do, she reached out for your forehead and brushed your hair from your face. Planted a kiss at the top of your head.

“Well tell him to knock it off, because you’ve got a big, big day tomorrow,” she said, crossing her arms as she stood off to the side of your bed.

French lessons from one of your father’s friends and supper club with the girls. Riveting stuff.

You opened your mouth to say something in reply, but your mother was evidently keen to continue,

“Now I know you’ve got a lot on your plate—”

You stifled a whimper when the nose that Daryl had used to brush against your cunt was presently replaced by his tongue. Licking a calm, lazy strip up your slit as the rest of your mom’s speech reached you in a garble.

Slyly, you lowered a hand to the head of hair that was occupying the space between your legs and yanked a clump of it. Silently begging Daryl to cut the bullshit games before both of you got caught.

Daryl would do no such thing. He continued to flick the tip of his tongue across your heat before closing his lips around your clit, sucking gently.

“—missing for a day at least. Maybe even—”

You swallowed and nodded your head, trying to shield your mother from the fact that you and your newly-popped cherry were getting the tonguebath of a lifetime under the covers. Daryl had somehow managed to bring a hand up to your heat and was currently pumping his middle and ring fingers in and out of your hole at a brutal speed.

It wasn’t until your mom said one word in particular that either of you perked up and stopped what you were doing.

“—Dixon—” your mom babbled on until you broke in,

“Who?”

“Daryl Dixon. Went MIA and his brother’s worried sick. Found his crossbow in our backyard a little while ago, was just wondering if you’d seen him.”

Your stomach twisted. Daryl’s fingers stalled inside you.

“No ma’am, I-I haven’t,” you squeaked.

Daryl bit your thigh as if to say, “Liar.”

“Alrighty then, just checkin’.” Your mom clasped her hands together and turned on her heels, “He should turn up sooner or later. Get some sleep now, sweetheart.”

The door closing behind her was like music to your ears.

As soon as it shut, Daryl threw the duvet off and licked his lips in a smirk.

“You fucker!” you bit.

“You liar,” he sneered, climbing back on top of you quick. Careful to avoid the half-dried puddle of semen on your stomach.

“Hey, you never told me what this w—”

“Cum. Stuff I’m gonna shoot in yer belly, not on it, when yer good ‘n ready to have my babies,” Daryl grinned.

Ready? For babies? Your mind was still reeling from the absurdity of your previous predicament, heart all but beating out your chest, and this man remained totally unperturbed. Talking about breeding, of all things.

“There will be no babies had between us, Daryl,” you snapped, “That’s a husband privilege, and like you said, I’m not gettin’ hitched any time soon.”

The smile from Daryl’s face didn’t falter. He just leaned forward and gave you a look as if to say he knew better.

“Thought y’said you were a woman of yer word,” Daryl seemed to taunt as he ran a hand up your calf.

You didn’t bother to swat it away, just shot him a glare and muttered, “I am.”

“You are?”

Daryl moved in, a hint of a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you could say another word, you watched him hook one thumb in the ring that hung from his neck. Slid it back and forth across the chain and observed your eyes in wordless amusement as they followed its gentle path.

“You said—” Daryl started.

“Did not,” you returned.

“—and promised you’d—”

Your cheeks grew enflamed with a fierce, angry blush. There was no fucking way he wanted you to—

“Save it for your husband,” Daryl said, still flashing that shit-eating smile as he brought the ring between his lips once more, “And you gave it to me.”

This was undoubtedly the most deranged marriage proposal you’d heard in your life.

You rolled your eyes and reached for your promise ring now pinched between his teeth, ready to yank it off the chain altogether, when another intrusion sent you scrambling for the sheets.

Your bedroom door opened for a second time that night—this time to reveal your mother and father at the threshold of your room, stepping in without a knock.

“Hey pumpkin, I—”

“Shit.”

You ducked behind Daryl, and Daryl chucked the last droplets of cum off his hands in a flash.

You looked at him, he looked at you, and your parents stood terrified, staring at you both.

When Daryl’s gaze flitted up, you saw his jaw slacken considerably as his eyes fell on your father for the first time. The next thing you knew, your ring was trembling out of his mouth, his whole face draining of color. He swallowed, almost seemed to choke on his spit as his throat tightened up, and suddenly he was speaking, stammering, quietly, pupils blown wide in pure horror:

“Mr. Grimes, it’s not what it looks like.”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

2K notes · View notes

rinhaler · 7 months

Note

i cant stop thinking abt noncon + stepcest Rin who cant control himself anymore after noticing how much his lil step-sister has grown since he was away bc of soccer n shit yk..

(btw your blog is goated)

GOATED WHAT A COMPLIMENT AKGHDSAKLH thank u very much I hope u enjoy this <3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, stepcest, dub/noncon, slight fingering, vaginal sex, nii-chan/rin-nii used, slight degradation, praise, dacryphilia, calls ur pussy 'she', shush kink?

words: 2k

“You’re always flirting with me.” Rin speaks. It’s the first time he’s said anything to you since he got back from Paris. He’s always been cold with you, short-tempered and even cruel. But you hadn’t expected to hear him say something like that.

You scoff, shuffling your position on the couch to get more comfortable to read your magazine. He always notes how often you change your position when you read; you can never sit still for more than a few minutes. You often read with your bedroom door open, and if he passes by to go to the bathroom, you’re always in a different position by the time he walks back to his room again.

“What was that?” he asks, pulling a disgruntled face at your dismissive response. “You think you don’t? You only wear short skirts when I’m visiting. I see your socials.”

“Oh… so, you’re stalking me then?” you giggle. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rin-nii… I jus’ feel pretty like this.” you defend yourself despite knowing he’s right. He thinks you’re dumb, and the fact that you smile and giggle after every word is a dead giveaway. You’re a flirt, and you’re a liar.

He also hates that you’re absolutely right.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t check your social media profiles. He likes to see what you’re up to and who you’re seeing. It’s only been a recent development, though, he saw a particularly sultry post on your Instagram and he quite frankly hasn’t been the same since. He hadn’t realised you’d grown so much and come into your own. He can’t get you out of his mind.

You gulp a little as he leans forward, his fingers lingering on your chin and guiding your eyes to meet his own. He doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, he opts to examine your responses. The way your forehead forms a tiny bead of sweat under the pressure of his gaze. The way your tongue quickly swipes over your plump lips when his eyes drift to stare at them. The way your breasts almost spill with each heave of your chest as you try and keep your composure.

“Be grateful, little sister. Good nii-chan’s keep an eye on their little sister’s, you know.” he tells you matter-of-factly.

“T- uh, thank you, Rin-nii…” is all you can muster beneath his intense stare. He smirks, too fucking coolly before withdrawing. You close your magazine and stand up, desperate to hurry to your room to calm your nerves. He watches you walk away as he flicks through the channels on the TV.

“Oh God, miss you on my lips… hm-mm-mm…” you sing along with your record player as you listen to Lana Del Rey, following a muted makeup tutorial on your phone to pass the time. You grunt in annoyance when you realise that maybe you aren’t destined to perfect winged eyeliner today.

After locking your phone, you immediately tap the screen to see the time. You almost gasp as you realise it’s 7PM and five hours have passed since you last checked what time it is. Dinner will be ready soon, you grab a makeup wipe and begin to cleanse your skin. You should probably do your skincare, too, but it can wait until right before bedtime.

You examine your face to see if you’ve missed any makeup. Your eyeliner is stubborn but eventually comes off. And so with that, you get up to toss the wipe into the bin in your room.

“Jesus Chri— Rin! What are you doing?” you ask, spotting your elder brother in the doorway of your room. His eyes follow the stained wipe as you drop it into the bin, but his eyes linger on you once more as you wait for him to answer. “Oh… is there something on my face? Thought I got it all…” you tell him, leaning over your dressing table again to make sure your face is spotless.

“Tell me the truth.” he sighs, entering your room without closing the door. You look at him through your mirror before you turn to face him, an eyebrow quirked in confusion as he continues to close the distance. “You flirt with me.”

“This again?” you laugh. You lean back against your dressing table, fingers curling beneath the tabletop as you cross one ankle over the other. You feel heady as he gets closer and you smell his cologne. It doesn’t suit him, you think, but it’s nice. The scent is generic and sporty but Rin Itoshi himself is nothing close to generic.

Though it doesn’t matter, ultimately, not when it’s flooding your senses and drowning your mind.

“You’ve gotten so big…” he sighs, placing a hand on your hip. He smirks at how you shudder from his touch on your bare skin. Your watery eyes make his heart swell, unable to believe how trusting you are. You don’t stop him when his hand smooths over the curve of your ass and fingers dip under your skirt, though you’re trembling. Thick fingers prod at your panties and a tiny mewl escapes your lips. A condescending chuckle leaves him as you uncross your legs, widening them to give him better access. “Your panties are soaked. I knew you wanted me…”

You grab his wrist, urging him to stop when you remember the bedroom door is still wide open. It doesn’t deter him, though. His heavy fingers still press against the material covering your cute little cunt, his bulge growing tenfold when he pushes by your puffy lips to tease your throbbing clit.

“Don’t act coy, now. I know you want this, you opened your legs for nii-chan to play with you.”

“We can’t.” you whisper, biting your lip in a feeble attempt to stifle yourself. “Not l-like this! Not when they’re home… please nii-chan.” you beg, though it’s fruitless. Your eyes flutter closed as his head sinks, his lips meeting your neck to kiss you delicately.

You barely have the energy to fight when he encourages you to hook your legs around his waist. He carries you to the bed, mumbles of protest leave you but you don’t dare make too much noise and draw attention.

“Has to be now, princess.” he tells you. “Don’t know when we’ll get a better chance.” he continues.

You’re trapped beneath him, making a point of looking away from him as he humps against you pathetically. And you want him, of course you want him, but the risk is too high. He’s lost all sense, instead thinking with his cock rather than his brain. But you’re not too far gone yet. You can put a stop to this.

It needs to stop.

“Why are you being like this?” he wonders as he pulls out his length, jerking it slowly all the while still humping the tip against your clothed, wet panties. “I have to do this… little sister. I have to know how tight you are around me.”

“Another time, please! What if we get caught? P-Please stop, you’re smarter than this!” you beg once again, the request falling on deaf ears. You gulp as you feel his fingers hook under the gusset of your panties, moving the material into the crease of your thigh. Your voice breaks, a whiny moan following as he presses his tip into your sticky cunt. The stretch is heavenly, and you can barely catch your breath. His glimmering green eyes staring down at you as he inches further and further into your welcoming warmth makes you feel humiliated. You don’t want this, but fucking hell, you really do. “Aaah~!” you sob.

His palm flies to your mouth, the pressure almost suffocating as lust blown eyes turn impatient.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers, still bullying his cock into you. “Gotta be quiet, don’t want our parents to see what a little slut you are for nii-chan, yeah?” he warns you.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. You aren’t sure where to put your hands. They grip into the duvet below before you begin pulling at his shirt. He doesn’t have the patience to take it off, though, not when you’re sucking him in and squeezing around him like a fucking virgin. Are you? He doesn’t want to know. His head dips as your nails begin to claw up his back, marking your territory unintentionally.

He moves his leg, hooking his ankle around yours to keep your thigh pinned in place and open wide. You feel him hold your other ankle briefly, kissing it softly before he moves his hand under the bend of your knee. Your eyes cross as he pushes your leg until your opened up for him like a blooming flower. The new angle is monstrous, his thick, intimidating length reaching depths you didn’t even know existed.

He groans as he watches tears roll out of your innocent eyes. Those trusting eyes that didn’t think your nii-chan could be capable of something so salacious. He’s sure he won’t last long. Not when your clamping around him like this and looking at him with those pathetically wet eyes. You’re mumbling something beneath his dampening palm, but he isn’t stupid enough to free your airways and risk you crying out needily for your dear nii-chan.

You panic as you feel him withdraw his length, though deep down you know it’s for the best. But your eyes roll over white as you feel him stab it in again.

“Pretty little sister… want you to cream this cock for me…” he announces, repeating the motion again and again as he basks in the way you can barely look at him in your ecstasy. He can’t take his eyes off you, though. He doubts he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. “I’m gonna cum inside, princess. I belong inside, yeah?”

You shake your head, his words stirring in your mind and bringing your senses back once more. Oh God, he can’t. You’re on the pill, all should be fine if he does cum inside but it’s so damn wrong.

“Did you just say no to your nii-chan? I don’t like that answer.” he replies, his hips picking up the pace again. His body shimmers with a sheen of sweat, and his breathless pants become heavier. “You should be begging me for my cum. I’m sure you didn’t mean it, don’t worry, I’ll give it to you.” he continues. Each thrust of his hips is deep and powerful and you’re sure your inner thighs might be developing bruises.

You whimper, again, knowing you can’t do anything to change his mind.

“Your pussy is so cute… think your clit needs some attention, though. Touch yourself for me, let me watch.” he requests. “Go on… she’s so swollen.”

It’s like being hypnotised. Your dominant hand flies to your cunt and begins to rub your needy clit. And it’s minimal, after barely any touching at all and you’re creaming for your beloved nii-chan. The sight is too much for your brother and the way your walls squeeze him for all he’s worth are an additional lure into his release. His own eyes turn white briefly before he looks down at where you’re joined. Your combined coupling forming a beautiful white ring around the base of his cock with every shallow impale.

“F-Fuck… don’t wanna pull out.” he tells you, finally uncovering your mouth to kiss your lips intimately.

You’re speechless. You aren’t surprised your brother is so experienced or so filthy with his words. Not when he’s travels and fucks girls around the world. But how are you meant to be without him now? When he goes away again… how will you stand it? His cock is made for you, of that, you’re sure. But you doubt he’ll keep it in his pants for your benefit.

Fuck, this was a mistake.

“Dinner’s ready!” your mother calls up the stairs, your nii-chan’s hand instinctively flies to your mouth and he shushes you before chuckling again.

You cry desperately as he withdraws his softening length from your twitching hole. But neediness turns to discomfort as you feel your brothers fingers move the gusset of your panties back into place. It’s so wet and sticky and gross, your face distorts at the unpleasant feeling.

“Come on, don’t want to be late, do we?”

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storiesfromgaza · 7 months

Text

Hello, everyone.

This may be the finest and most important article I've written since the creation of this blog, so kindly read it carefully and pay attention.

And share it so that everyone can see it.

There are many events happening tonight, and I will try to summarize them for you so that you have a complete understanding of what is happening.

Twelve days ago, a gruesome incident occurred, most of you have probably heard of it: the occupation forces shelled the Al-Ma'madani Hospital in Gaza, resulting in the deaths of over a thousand people, including patients, their families, doctors, and young children.

Has the occupation been content with this? The answer is no.

Since that day, they have been threatening another hospital, Al-Quds Hospital, with the promise of bombing it, leaving civilians and patients inside in a state of terror, awaiting death at any moment.

The first time this happened, it spread across social media platforms, especially Twitter, and many people protested, causing the occupation to halt its actions.

Today, twelve days after the Al-Ma'madani Hospital massacre, they have once again sent severe threats to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) for the immediate evacuation of Al-Quds Hospital, as it is destined to be bombed.

"🔴 Urgent: We have just received severe threats demanding the immediate evacuation of Al-Quds Hospital as it is set to be bombed.

Since the early hours of the morning, the vicinity of Al-Quds Hospital has been witnessing continuous airstrikes, resulting in the destruction of some buildings within a 50-meter radius.

📢 Please share, save Al-Quds Hospital! 📢

#GazaUnderAttack #GazaUnderSiege #Save_Al-Quds_Hospital

The second matter, three days ago, specifically on Friday, the twenty-seventh of this month, the occupation completely isolated Gaza from the world by cutting off the internet, telecommunications, and electricity. They were prepared for a brutal massacre that occurred that night and lasted for two days.

I'm talking about indiscriminate bombardment using all kinds of weapons on all areas of Gaza, whether they were churches, mosques, schools, or homes, regardless of their occupants, be they children, young people, women, or the elderly.

During that period, social media platforms and indeed the entire world were abuzz with the issue.

People from various backgrounds, nationalities, and religions unanimously agreed that it was inhumane to isolate them from the world and deny them the right to have a voice.

They were searching for solutions they could implement.

Some took to the streets, demanding the return of the internet, while others began sharing their plight on social media, primarily on Twitter.

They reached out to activists and officials who had the means to help.

One of the most prominent solutions that everyone turned to was contacting Elon Musk, the former owner of Twitter (X) and the current owner of SpaceX, to enable the people of Gaza to use the internet via Starlink's private satellites.

They hoped that he would hear their plea, as it was their only hope.

He tweeted:

"Starlink will support connectivity to internationally recognized aid organizations in Gaza.

[ComStar]

On the same day, five hours after the publication of this tweet, the Israeli Minister of Communications commented on it, saying, in essence, that they would use all available means to prevent the supply of Starlink internet to Gaza because Hamas would utilize it. He also threatened that if this were to occur, he would sever all his office's ties with Starlink.

Now, let's discuss the issue of hostages for a moment because it is of utmost importance to understanding the situation.

On the twenty-fourth of this month, Yasmin Porat, one of the hostages, came forward to talk about her experiences during her captivity.

I will now share some of what she mentioned in the interview:

She stated that Israeli forces eliminated everyone, including hostages, amid heavy crossfire and tank shelling.

She highlighted the contrasting behavior of Palestinian fighters who offered hope for safe passage to Gaza. Israeli forces disrupted this hope with a storm of gunfire.

Palestinian fighters treated the hostages humanely, offering them hope of a safe passage to Gaza, despite the chaos.

This compassionate act stands in stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded.

After the interview was broadcast, it was completely deleted and blocked from all social media platforms and even from Kan's website. Moreover, Yasmin's account mysteriously disappeared from the "Haboker Hazeh" program, raising concerns of censorship.

Below, you will find the interview recording.

During that period, the Al-Qassam Brigades continued their communication with the Israeli government in order to release some prisoners for humanitarian reasons, including their age and health, among them two elderly women, one of whom is named Yohav Levisheitz.

But the Israeli government showed no interest in the matter whatsoever.

As a result, they decided to release the two elderly women.

Before leaving, one of them, Yohav Levisheitz, insisted on shaking hands with one of the resistance fighters who she was their captor, as you can see in the following video.

-Tumblr doesn't allow me to post two videos in a single post, so I will provide the video link on the blog-:

https://www.tumblr.com/storiesfromgaza/732027117370572800/al-qassam-brigades-released-two-of-the-hostages?source=share

After this, she insisted on participating in a press conference to share her experience, saying:

"When we arrived in Gaza, they initially told us that they believed in the Quran and that they wouldn't harm us.

They said they would treat us as they do with those around them.

We were under tight security, and medical professionals arrived to ensure we had the medications we always took.

They showed great concern for our health.

Our place of rest was the mattresses.

We had an accompanying doctor who would visit us every two or three days to check on our well-being.

In addition to a paramedic who looked after us and provided us with our medications.

They took on the responsibility and made sure to provide the necessary medications.

They looked after our hygiene meticulously to safeguard our health so that we wouldn't fall ill.

It was they who took care of cleaning the restrooms, not us.

They provided us with everything we needed, and I acknowledge their help in that.

If equivalent medications weren't available, they offered suitable alternatives.

They were remarkably courteous (kind) and ensured we ate well, sharing the same food they ate (bread, cheese, and cucumbers)

We were treated with kindness, and they paid meticulous attention to every detail.

Women among them understood the importance of feminine hygiene and ensured we had everything we needed.

Hamas had meticulously planned everything for a long time, providing us with everything we required, even down to shampoo and conditioner.

The inefficiencies of the army and Shabak (Israel Security Agency - ISA) greatly impacted us; we were pawns in the government's game."

After this, Western media outlets, with CNN at the forefront, distorted Yohav's words and published that she said, "I went through hell."

BBC, on the other hand, released two versions of the statement.

They published the original statement by Yohav on their account dedicated to the Arab audience, while on their accounts for Western and Indian audiences, they published a manipulated version of her statement that included the same content as previously published by CNN.

These are the testimonies of two different women captives, both of whom unanimously agree that they were treated with excellent humane treatment, and no one tortured them or attempted to harass or disturb them.

On the other hand, both of them agree that Israel did not care about their safety in any way and, in fact, they would open fire in the presence of the hostages, leaving behind lifeless bodies hit by their deadly bullets.

Now, let's focus for a moment on the point of Israel and the prisoners.

Two days ago, Abu Ubaida, the official spokesman for the Al-Qassam Brigades, made a lengthy recorded speech in which he spoke about the prisoners.

He said:

"There have been numerous contacts in the prisoner file, and there was an opportunity to reach an agreement, but they delayed and did not show real seriousness in releasing the prisoners.

Instead, its barbaric shelling and continuous crimes have led to the killing of nearly fifty of them so far."

Do you understand now that Israel does not care about the prisoners at all, as it claims, and that their use of the prisoner issue is merely to prevent Elon Musk from providing internet access via Starlink in Gaza for its residents?

Remember to follow our Instagram account.

We regularly post a lot of content with fresh designs to reach a larger audience which you can easily share by posting it in your Instagram story, Facebook story, WhatsApp story or sending it to your friends through Direct Messages, we need all the support we can get.

#gaza #palestine #gaza strip #free gaza #free palestine #storiesfromgaza #غزة #فلسطين #genocide #humanitarian crisis

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pucksandpower · 8 months

Text

Ice Queen: Ice Princess

Kimi Räikkönen x daughter!Reader

(Future) Max Verstappen x Räikkönen!Reader

Summary: before taking F1 by storm as the Ice Queen, you rose up the ranks of single-seater racing (a prologue of sorts)

Series Masterlist

How It All Began: Age 5

The air smells of rubber and petrol as you approach the karting track, your small hand wrapped securely in your father’s. His face is a mask of nonchalance but the slight tug of his lips gives away his excitement.

You look up at him, mirroring his stoic expression. “Papa, is this like your big car?”

Kimi glances down, raising an eyebrow. “Sort of but smaller. And no fancy buttons.”

You stare at the kart, then back at him, your tiny face serious. “Will it go brrr?”

He laughs, a sound seldom heard by the media but common enough for you. “Yes, it will go brrr.”

Placing you into the seat, he starts explaining the basics. “This is the steering wheel. It’s what you use to turn the kart.”

You grab it, imitating every race start you’ve seen. “Like this?” You make a vroom sound.

He chuckles. “Exactly. And remember, it’s not just about going fast. It’s about control.”

You squint at the track then back at him. “Will there be red flags?”

“No, no red flags today. Just us,” he says, fighting back a grin.

You nod sagely, taking in the information. “Okay, Papa. But what if someone wants to overtake?”

He leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “Then you do what I do.”

You pause in a replica of Kimi’s thoughtful pose. “Don’t let them?”

He winks, “Exactly.”

After strapping you in securely, he shows you how to start the kart and you begin to drive. The wind rustles your hair and excitement bubbles as you make your way around the track for the first time.

He shouts after you, “Hold the wheel tight!”

“I know what I’m doing!” You yell back.

As you circle back to him, he crouches down, ready to help you stop the kart. “So, how was it?”

You smirk, “Okay, I guess.”

He pulls you into a hug. “You really are just like me, aren’t you?”

You beam up at him, pride evident in your young eyes. “Yep, Papa. We’re a team.”

He ruffles your hair, a soft smile on his lips. “The best team.”

Signing with Prema Racing: Age 16

“Sixteen and in Formula 3, huh?” Kimi muses, sipping his coffee as he leans against the kitchen counter. “When I was sixteen, I think I was—”

“Chasing snowmobiles in Finland?” You interrupt, smirking as you take a bite of your toast.

Your father rolls his eyes playfully. “Very funny. So, Prema?”

You nod, trying to play it cool but your excitement still shines through. “Yeah, they want me for next season.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Moving up from F4 to F3 is a big transition. It’s faster, more competitive.”

You lean against the counter opposite him, mimicking his casual stance. “I know, Papa. More buttons.”

Your father chuckles, “A lot more buttons. And more media.”

You groan, “Oh, not the media. Can’t I just drive?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried that approach,” Kimi smirks. “But they’re like mosquitoes. Persistent and out for blood.”

You consider this for a moment. “Maybe I can give one-word answers like you do?”

He grins, “It’s an art form. But sure, give it a try.”

A notification pings on your phone. It’s an email from Prema, detailing your training sessions and media days. “Speaking of which,” you show the screen to Kimi, “Media training next week.”

Kimi makes a face, “A room full of people teaching you how to not be yourself.”

You laugh, “Should I tell them I already have all the training I need from the master himself?”

He winks, “They won’t know what hit them.”

You put your dishes in the sink, your thoughts racing ahead to the upcoming season. “You think I’ll do well, Papa?”

Your father walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder. His face is serious but his eyes are warm. “I know you will. Remember to enjoy the journey, not just the destination.”

You smile, pulling him into a hug, “Thanks, Papa. I promise to make you proud.”

He hugs you back, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, “You already have.”

Formula 3: Age 16

The roar of engines, the buzzing of the crowd, the palpable tension in the air — this is it. Your first Formula 3 race.

“So,” your father begins, leaning against your garage, “Nervous?”

You shoot him a look, trying to channel his signature coolness. “Do I look nervous?”

He tilts his head, a playful smirk growing. “You’re fidgeting with your gloves. You never do that.”

You glance down at your hands and laugh, “Okay, maybe a little. But can you blame me?”

Kimi shrugs, “It’s your first F3 race. If you weren’t at least a bit nervous, I would think you’re a robot.”

A rival driver, Dan, walks by, giving you a condescending wink. “Ready to eat my dust?”

You roll your eyes, matching his bravado with ease. “Only dust I’ll be seeing is from the podium.”

Your father snorts, “Well played.”

After a few minutes, it’s time to suit up. As you’re putting on your helmet, Kimi leans in close, his voice firm yet comforting. “Remember, it’s not just about speed. Strategy matters. Don’t be rash. You know what to do and how to race smart.”

You smirk, “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He grins, patting your helmet, “Just checking.”

As you settle into your car, the weight of the moment hits you. All the years, the training, the early mornings, and late nights — it lead to this.

The race is a blur of adrenaline. Overtakes, near misses, and strategy calls. Every now and then, you hear your father’s voice in your earpiece, offering advice or just the occasional sarcastic remark. You’re not sure how legal that is but Kimi has never been one to care much for authority.

You pass the checkered flag, a respectable fourth place finish in your first race.

Pulling back in, you climb out of your car both exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure. Your father approaches, a proud smile on his face. “Fourth place! That’s solid.”

You lean against your car, catching your breath. “Could’ve been better.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow, “Could’ve been worse.”

You laugh, “Always the optimist?”

He smirks, “Always realistic.”

A reporter approaches, mic in hand. “Quick word about your first race in F3?”

You channel your inner Kimi, giving the shortest answer possible. “It was fine.”

The reporter blinks, taken aback by your brevity. “Oh, um, any challenges?”

You shrug, “It’s racing. There are always challenges.”

Your father, watching from the side, can’t contain his laughter. As the reporter leaves, slightly flustered, he walks over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You really are my daughter.”

You grin, “Was there ever any doubt?”

Moving Up to Formula 2: Age 18

“Papa,” you begin as you both lounge in the living room, “I have news.”

Your father looks up from his magazine, one eyebrow raised in expectation. “You finally cleaned your room?”

You roll your eyes. “No. And thanks for the vote of confidence. I got the call. I’m moving up to Formula 2!”

He sets the magazine down, his eyes scanning your face. “That’s big. Ready for it?”

You shrug nonchalantly, a gesture you picked up from him. “It’s just another race car, right?”

Kimi chuckles, “In a faster race car. With even more buttons.”

You groan dramatically, “Great. Just what I needed. More buttons.”

He smirks, “You’ll manage. You always do.”

Training days for F2 are intense. New circuits, new challenges, and, of course, more media attention. As you take a break between testing sessions, your father walks over with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” you take a long sip of it.

He leans against a nearby wall, watching the other drivers on the track. “How does the car feel?”

You pause to think about it. “A bit more aggressive than the F3. But I’ll adapt.”

Kimi nods, “I know you will.”

A few days later, it is time for your first F2 race. The pit lane is a frenzy of activity with teams making last-minute checks and media personnel swarming about. As you are getting ready to climb into your car, a reporter thrusts a microphone in your face.

“Your first race in F2! Nervous about the competition?”

You don’t miss a beat, “No. They should be nervous about me.”

Your father tries to suppress a laugh but fails miserably. The reporter seems slightly taken aback, “Any personal strategies for today’s race?”

You look straight into the camera, “Drive fast. Don’t crash.”

The reporter, slightly flustered, thanks you and moves on. Kimi has never looked prouder.

The race is a whirlwind of excitement. The faster cars, the tighter competition, it’s all exhilarating. You don’t finish first but you hold your own, making some impressive overtakes and defending your position fiercely.

Your father glares at a cameraman until he turns the lens away from the two of you and then pulls you into a tight hug. “Not bad, rookie.”

You smirk, “Rookie? I’ve been racing since I was five, remember?”

He chuckles, ruffling your sweaty hair, “Yeah but this is F2. Welcome to the big leagues.”

You melt further into him, soaking the moment up. “Thanks, Papa. Here’s to many more races.”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “And many more one-liners.”

Formula 2 Champion: Age 19

“So,” your father starts, watching as you prepare for the final race of the F2 season, “are you ready to make history today?”

You smirk, pulling on your gloves. “History is just another record waiting to be broken.”

Kimi chuckles, “You really have a line for everything.”

You shoot him a mock glare, "Look who’s talking.”

The race is a high-stakes event. You lead the championship but need a win today to cement your position and make you the first woman to claim the F2 title.

The cars roar to life and you can almost taste the tension in the pit lane. Your father leans in, his voice steady despite the chaos all around you. “Drive like you always do. Focused and fearless.”

You nod in determination. “Got it, Papa.”

The race is an intense battle of strategy, speed, and skill. Every overtake, every defensive maneuver, every millisecond counts. When you see the checkered flag waving and cross the finish line in first place, the weight of your achievement truly begins to sink in.

Emerging from your car, you swiftly climb onto the nose and raise your arms triumphantly, soaking in the jubilation around you. The barriers surrounding parc fermé are immediately swarmed by your team and reporters, but through the crowd, you spot your father. The pride in his eyes is unmistakable and he even smiles publicly despite all the cameras undoubtably capturing the moment. He pushes through, pulling you into a tight hug as the team erupts in cheers around you.

“You did it,” his voice is uncharacteristically choked with emotion.

You grin, pulling back to look at him. “We did it.”

The post-race interview is a blur of questions about your historic win but one question stands out. “How does it feel to be the first woman to win the F2 championship?”

With a sly glance towards your father, you reply, “I didn’t set out to be the first woman to win it. I set out to win it.”

Your father lets out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of the reporters much to his chagrin. They turn their mics to him, “Kimi, thoughts on your daughter's achievement?”

He looks at you, his signature deadpan expression in place, “She’s okay, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully, but the hint of a smile remaining on his face despite the media surrounding both of you reveals his pride.

The celebration that night is a mix of laughter, vodka, and memories. As you both sit, watching the team revel in the moment, Kimi turns to you. “I always knew you had it in you. But seeing it ... seeing you out there today … I’m beyond proud.”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder as the liquor begins to take its toll. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Papa.”

When You Really Made It: Age 19

“You’re looking at that paper like it’s written in another language,” your father comments while sipping his morning coffee.

You glance up, the dual contracts from Red Bull Racing and Scuderia AlphaTauri spread out on the desk in front of you. “Sure feels like it. Formula 1! Can you believe it?”

He smirks, “Considering you’re my daughter and I taught you everything you know? Absolutely.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “How modest of you, Papa.”

A knock on the door interrupts the moment. It’s Christian Horner and Franz Tost. "Ready to discuss the details?"

You look to Kimi, who gives a nod. “Let’s do it.”

As the team principals explains the nuances, clauses, and expectations, you occasionally exchange amused glances with your father, particularly when terms get overly convoluted.

After they leave, you sink into a chair, decidedly overwhelmed. “This is big.”

Kimi sits across from you. “It’s a step up. But it’s where you belong.”

You look at the contract again and then at your father. “Think I can handle the pressure?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking me or telling me?”

You smirk, “Maybe a bit of both.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The next few days are a whirlwind of race suit fittings, team briefings, and media obligations. The latter being your least favorite part.

During one press conference, a reporter asks, “How does it feel to be following in your father’s footsteps?”

You press your lips together, “I’m not. I’m making my own.”

Another inquires, “Any fears about competing at this level?”

You shoot him a deadpan look, “Fear is for the drivers who see me coming in their mirrors.”

Kimi, watching from a shadowed corner, struggles to keep a straight face and walks up to you with the tiniest of smiles that anyone else would miss after the presser, “You really have a knack for this.”

You smile back, “I learned from the best.”

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @ilovedreming @jamie2305 @reidsworld @notyouraveragemochii @faithm120601

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